


the Death of Ulana

by terra_nocuus



Series: The Hard Road Ahead [1]
Category: Lineage 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 136,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terra_nocuus/pseuds/terra_nocuus
Summary: “She had asked us, years ago, to be able to talk to you about your sister.” The Paladin gave her young companion a sad smile, “I’m sorry for not being able to give you all the details about Ulana’s passing, it… well. It’s important to her. She was your sister’s best friend, and she feels she owes you an explanation.”Shinoa caught the emphasis hidden in her statement, realized that something terrible must have happened to cause her Guild Sisters to keep their silence for the last ten years. She remembered the funeral: a dull gray affair, the sky weeping along with her, a tense undercurrent to all the conversations around her. She nodded toward the Temple, visible over the village walls they had almost reached, “When will I meet her?”





	1. I. Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neomaster509](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=neomaster509).



> This story began at least a dozen years ago. It was a your-turn-my-turn story-prompt style thing in our Clan's forums, where most of the named characters were players in our Guild. At this point, the events of the story don't match official L2 Lore, but that's fine. I had to restructure / rewrite portions of it, for it to fit together better. The first four sections have been written for years, but I never put the ending to paper.
> 
> I guess that'd mean it was over?
> 
> I miss you guys. 
> 
> I always wanted to finish this. I guess it's time.

 

 

 **Questions** _v. t._ : To doubt of; to be uncertain of; to query.

 

 

     Seabirds wheeled through the sky, their cries fading in the crash of the waves against the stone pilings, the water foaming as it whorled into the shadows under the dock. Shinoa raised a gray-skinned hand to her forehead, shading her amber eyes from the midday sun’s glare. The deck tilted with the swell of the waves as the steersman spun his wheel, drawing the wooden vessel close to the landing at Talking Island Harbor. The young Dark Elf shifted her footing as she swayed and slung her large travel bag over her shoulder, drawing the strap tight across her chest after making sure it fell between the swords sheathed on her back.

     She was of average height for a Dark Elf, which was still taller than most humans. Her long white-platinum colored hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a braid keeping it all in place. The bright sunlight glittered on the blue and gold armor she wore, the heavy plates traced in silver patterns. It was soon after her twenty-first year; a milestone of sorts for humans, something barely celebrated by her own long-lived people. She had recently completed her Trials to earn the title of ‘Blade Dancer', when her Guild Leader had received a letter inviting them to visit Talking Island.

     The ship hands yelled to the dockworkers, throwing ropes as they prepared to secure the ferry. With a concerted heave and an echoing thud, the gangplank was lowered to the dock, sending a shudder through the wooden deck. Shinoa felt a hand squeeze her shoulder, and she turned to face the human standing beside her. The tall, athletically built woman, reddish-blonde hair cut short, shining in her own silver and blue armor, nodded toward the island they faced. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” DragonClaw asked her Guild Sister, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked at her old stomping grounds.

     Shinoa shook her head, frowning slightly in distaste, “I may not care for ship-travel, but it was a short enough journey to stomach.” She glanced at the landmass before them, stepping carefully over piles of canvas and rigging as she followed the Paladin to disembark. “I’ve never had a reason to visit Talking Island before, but it… looks… nice?” she offered, unable to come up with a better compliment.

     DragonClaw barked with laughter, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she looked for the third female in their party. “Did you hear that, Rhianwen?” the woman called to the willowy Elf approaching them, “Shinoa thinks the Island is ‘nice’!”

     Laughing softly into her fingers, the Elven Spellsinger glanced at their Dark Elf companion. “Just wait until you see the village, Shinoa, you might change your mind.” The confused look on the young Blade Dancer’s face was delightful. Rhianwen walked down the gangway ahead of the Drow’s sputtering questions, chuckling to herself, her emerald and white robes billowing in the sea breeze.

     “Wh-what? What do you mean?” Shinoa blinked, looking between DragonClaw and the departing Elf, before settling on matching paces with the human, “DeeCee, what did she mean by that? A-am I going to hate it here?!”

 

***

 

     A short walk brought them close to the harbor-side gates of the village. Shinoa looked about, the sights and sounds of village life filling her senses. _It seems a peaceful life_ , she considered, feeling confident in her earlier impression. She glanced at the human and elf walking on either side of her, before clearing her throat softly to draw her companions’ attention. “By the way… thank you,” she coughed again, uncertain of her voice now that she’d begun speaking, “for bringing me to meet her. I-I know I’ve probably been a real handful until now, always asking questions about my sister.”

     The human and the elf nodded, sharing a pointed glance. The Paladin grunted, “Right, well,” she rubbed the back of her neck with a hand, sensing the Dark Elf’s nervousness, “you’re welcome, of course. I—We tried to be honest with you when you first joined the Guild.”

     Rhianwen nodded, stepping closer to bump her shoulder against the younger Dark Elf’s arm, “Yes, you _are_ a handful,” she laughed, not unkindly, “but you’re with us. Family.” Shinoa nodded as the Elf continued, “I know it’s been hard for you after Ulana died—you were so young!—and to have your brother die so soon after that…” The Spellsinger paused to wipe a tear from her eye.

     DragonClaw clasped the Dark Elf’s shoulder, shaking her gently, “And you’ve done well for yourself, studying hard, proving yourself to your instructors, taking on some rough Guild work, becoming an excellent asset on the battlefield.” Shinoa gave a faint scoff at the praise, not because she didn’t like to hear it, or perhaps _believe_ what her Guild Leader had just said, she just still felt like an unproven child compared to these women. The human shook her head, realizing she’d gotten a bit off-topic, “She had asked us, years ago, to be able to talk to you about your sister.” The Paladin gave her young companion a sad smile, “I’m sorry for not being able to give you all the details about Ulana’s passing, it… well. It’s important to _her_. She was your sister’s best friend, and she feels she owes you an explanation.”

     Shinoa caught the emphasis hidden in her statement, realized that something terrible must have happened to cause her Guild Sisters to keep their silence for the last ten years. She remembered the funeral: a dull gray affair, the sky weeping along with her, a tense undercurrent to all the conversations around her. She nodded toward the Temple, visible over the village walls they had almost reached, “When will I meet her?”

     “She’s expecting us tomorrow,” Rhianwen said as she brushed back a lock of her long blonde hair, drawing it over her slender ear to keep it in place, “We thought it best to give you the night before to rest & acclimate to the village, rather than jump into it right off the boat.”

     Shinoa grimaced at the thought of spending a whole night here with her nerves to keep her awake, hands shaking & stomach quivering at the thought that tomorrow, _tomorrow_ , her questions could at last be answered. _Hopefully_ , she prayed as much, anyway. She drew in a shaky breath, glancing up at the massive door to the gate they walked through, “I… I’m… Will she have time to see me? She seems so important.” She rubbed her right hand up and down her left arm for a moment, unsure of herself, “I’ve heard stories, of course, but no one at the Guild Hall would really tell me much about her.”

     “Of _course_ she has time to meet with you!” Rhianwen placed a comforting hand on the Dark Elf’s arm, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Now that you’re a Blade Dancer, we felt it was time.”

     DragonClaw nodded, “She’s been here on the Island for so long, practically all that remains of her at the Hall are fables,” she chuckled before muttering, “which she would take _immense_ pleasure in knowing.” She shaded her eyes with a gauntleted hand, looking first at the Temple and its tower, then down along the main village road. They walked toward a large two-story building near the central fountain. She pointed, “There’s the Inn. We have some rooms there.” The human stretched, leaning from side to side as she worked the stiffness out of her back, “It will be good to sleep in a bed that’s not swaying like a drunken Orc.”

     As they headed for the Inn, the human pointed out various shop fronts and merchant stands, giving brief descriptions and relating short snippets of larger stories to her two companions, “I won a wood-splitting contest against that shop-keep,” with a point, then, “My brother’s friend tried to steal a scroll from that shop, _poof_ , he vanished,” followed by a wink, “Gatekeeper sent him home a week later.” She nodded to the Blacksmith in greeting as they walked by, then, “He made my first shield, still have it at the Hall.”

     The Guild Leader pushed open the door to the Inn, letting the scents of wood smoke & roasting meat escape into the village air. The Inn was a bit darker on the inside, but not by much. Large windows on the second floor allowed great shafts of light to spear the long hall, lending a sunny, welcoming glow to the well-worn establishment. A low rumble of conversation drifted to the door as the three travelers entered, stomping the dust and dirt from their boots. A fair-skinned blonde woman in a rough-spun work dress and an apron waved to them from a far table, as she laid plates of food in front of some customers. “Hold on, DeeCee!” She called, hurrying to place her tray on the bar, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached the trio. The proprietress gave a deep bow to the party, drawing a grin from Rhianwen and an exasperated sigh from DragonClaw. The woman straightened before clapping her hands in excitement, “It’s _so_ good to see you again!” she gushed as she wrapped the Paladin in a hug.

     “It’s very good to see you as well, Daria,” the Elf said as she received a hug of her own. Rhianwen paused as she motioned toward the Dark Elf next to her, “I would like you to meet Ulana’s sister, Shinoa.”

     Shinoa saw a flicker of… fear? sadness? no, _compassion_ , flicker across the innkeeper’s face as she turned to face her. She decided to speak first. “I am Shinoa, daughter of Mayuri, daughter of Elsanor,” she said as she bowed in return, “The blessing of Shilen upon your house for accepting our watch-care.”

     Daria’s eyes sparkled as she watched the Dark Elf, her gaze flickering between the Drow’s companions, “ _My_ , so formal. Many thanks to you for the blessing, my fine Dancer of the Blades,” the woman grinned as she curtsied. “I take it this is your first visit to our fine isle?” Daria asked. When Shinoa nodded, the woman smiled brighter still, “Then I’ll have you know, you needn’t worry to be so formal here, why, think of me as one of your Guild Sisters!” Daria gave DragonClaw a nudge with her elbow, “It’s practically true anyhow, so don’t worry about a thing.” She glanced up at the windows, noticing the angle of the sunbeams streaming through the room, “I’m sure you’ve had a long day, so let’s get you all up to your rooms so you can rest.”

     The three travelers followed Daria across the Great Hall, and headed for the staircase set against the far wall. As she climbed, the innkeeper pointed at _this_ and _that_ , telling a tale of her brother that had DragonClaw and Rhianwen laughing. At the top of the stairs, they turned to the right, following the balcony to a small hallway on their left. “This one’s yours, Shinoa,” Daria said as she opened a door at the hallway terminus, “Rhianwen, if you’ll follow me?”

     Shinoa stepped inside the small furnished room and looked around. A sturdy rough-hewn bed stood against the wall opposite the door, long-wise, centered under a two-paned window. A matching trunk sat at the foot of the bed, while a three-drawered chest stood against the door-side wall, almost at her elbow. A similar desk and chair stood to her left, centered beneath a larger single-paned window. The Blade Dancer shrugged off her travel bag and laid it on top of the trunk. She turned to see DragonClaw leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest.

     “You okay, Shin?” the Paladin asked. Shinoa hesitated for a moment before nodding.

     Daria leaned in the doorway, glancing between the human and the Dark Elf. “If you’re hungry now, I can put something together,” she said making a smallish shape with her hands, “the main dinner will be ready within three hours? You’ll have some time to rest before then.” Shinoa nodded her understanding, and Daria turned her attention to DragonClaw. “You’ve got more coming in tonight, yes?”

     DragonClaw laughed as she turned to follow Daria down the walkway, “What gave it away?”

     “It was clear when you tried to rent my entire inn!” Daria’s voice echoed up the stairs.

     Alone at last, Shinoa closed her door and laid down on her bed to think.

 

***

 

     _Ahhh… Something about this island warms my soul. I do not know whether it is the cool sea air that I breathe, or the bright sun that beats down upon me as I sit staring out my window._

     _There is a Temple of Einhasad gracing my vision as of now, standing tall above the other buildings here. As ~~blasphe~~ unassuming as it is, it holds some significance today. My Guild has decided to grace this island with its presence this week; we have come to visit an old friend, one whose path intertwined with my sisters before her mysterious death. I was not told her name—Rhianwen refused to tell me, with that mischievous glint in her blue eyes. I prodded, but to no avail; she would only say that the woman was a Bishop, and would reveal wonderful things to me… that is, if I went to see her. _

     _Of course, I am apprehensive about meeting some figure from my sisters’ past, but sitting here will get me nothing. I would be lying if I claimed to be unafraid. I’ve wanted to know what happened to my sister for so long, and that knowledge is_ finally _within reach. I only wonder if it is for the best._

     Shinoa gently pushed her journal away, laying her quill down on the desk after tapping it dry on the inkwell’s edge. She looked down at the words she’d written, pondered them for a while. As her thoughts ran in circles she looked out the window, watching the villagers below go about their lives. Children ran by, laughing, screaming, racing to catch one another. Tradesmen bartered with customers, porters carried boxes and bags to their destinations.

     As the sunlight slowly slid across the rooftops, the Dark Elf caught a glimmer of red in a window at the top of the Temple. _Perhaps some flowers?_ she guessed, squinting, but the hazy sea air made it impossible to be sure. Shaking her head as she stood, she examined the writing on the page before her, checking if the ink was dry before closing the journal. Conversations from the Great Hall leapt in volume as she opened her door. Glancing over the balcony, Shinoa could see more Guild Members gathered at the tables below. Waving a greeting to the Orc, Elf, and human already several pints deep, Shinoa decided to try her luck with Rhianwen. Turning down the hallway to the Spellsinger’s room, the Blade Dancer paused for a moment before knocking with the back of her hand.

     Shinoa slipped inside at the Elf’s call, and gently closed the door as she looked around the room. Furnished similarly to her own quarters, the Dark Elf shrugged mentally, not having expected anything different. Rhianwen was sitting on her bed, legs crossed before her, backs-of-hands on her knees. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation,” Shinoa made to turn, reaching for the doorknob to leave.

     “Would I have called you in if I thought you an interruption?” The Elf’s response gave her pause, and she felt a small rush of embarrassment before she forced her body to relax, to turn and face the older woman. Rhianwen gazed at her, expectantly.

     “I want to know more about her,” Shinoa said, hoping a straightforward approach would succeed where other methods had failed.

     Rhianwen cocked an eyebrow, “ _Her_? What could I tell you about her that you don’t already know?”

     “Al-already know?!” Shinoa’s temper flared, and she struggled to tamp it down, “No one has told me anything!”

     “I’m sure you know _some_ things,” the Elf’s laugh was melodic, and Shinoa missed the playful tone behind it, “how could you not know all about her when you were growing up?”

     Shinoa clenched her teeth, “Because I-I was a self-absorbed child, like any other! I did not pay attention to—”

     Rhianwen leaned forward at that, with a sly grin, “Didn’t pay attention?! I don’t think that’s true.” The Dark Elf started to scoff at that, but the Elf continued, “Every time she visited, you would spend every waking hour with her... _Ulana_ always enjoyed visiting you,” she finished with a wolfish smile.

     _That_ was too much. “You are being foolish!” Shinoa shouted at her, balling her fists, “Stop being such a wool-headed idiot and tell me more about this human!”

     Rhianwen gaped at Shinoa before laughing again. “Insults will not help you any here, sister,” the Spellsinger said, sliding to the edge of her bed, to place her feet on the floor. “Do you not like surprises?”

     Shinoa, glaring at Rhianwen, stalked across the room to the window in anger. The sun was low in the sky over the Talking Island Village, casting long shadows across the room. She turned, and the sun cast an odd reflection across her armor. The blue light caught in Rhianwen’s eyes making her seem even more mischievous. The young Blade Dancer tried again, “Sister please... I came because you told me this woman had something for me, that she knew my... my older sister,” the words caught in her throat.

     Rhianwen stood, quickly moved to embraced Shinoa, pulling her close. Tears welled up in her own eyes, “Yes, I know how hard it is little sister, but please be patient. All will be revealed soon.”

 

***

 

     “Shinoa, seriously this is the fourth time you’ve asked me alright? I don’t know anything!” Sado Yasutora laughed drunkenly and then choked on his drink as Shinoa leaned over the table towards him. That glint in her eye was dangerous, and he had seen it before.

     “You know something don’t you?” She hissed, “You’re hiding something from me Sado, I don’t like it when you do that!” Shinoa said viciously, pulling at the dagger hidden in the sheath strapped around her thigh. She didn’t want to hurt the man, but she _did_ want the truth.

     “Awww come on, Shin,” Sado said, using the pet name he had called her by since they had first met, “Can’t you just wait until tomorrow?” he set down his drink carefully, and motioned to the dwarven bartender to fill it up again. “I remember you saying that ‘ _patience is a virtue and you have little of it human_ ’.”

     Shinoa glared at him again, “Do not use my words against me brother, I have little patience right now.” She sat down and sheathed her dagger before settling back into her seat, moving to allow more room for the swords strapped across her back.

     “You can take those off in here, you know,” Sado said, pointing at the scabbards that pointed up past her shoulders, “Don’t need to be so bloody proud of those things to wear them in a flaming tavern.” He had left his own bow in his room. What could happen in this sleepy village, anyway? That earned him another look from Shinoa.

     Pushing back her chair, she got up slowly, leaning her fists on the table, “Fine, I will wait till tomorrow then... but do not think this has washed you of our little deal, yes?”

     Sado gulped, remembering the bet he had made a while back... one he had forgotten. “Till later then, dark one” he said with a wink.

     Shinoa walked quickly upstairs to her room, muttering curses under her breath. At the top of the stairs, she turned to the left. She had one more chance. Walking further down the hall, she stopped and, taking off her boots, entered the room at the end. Oddly carved poles depicting different wild animals had been placed on the floor seemingly at random, with lit candles flickering from all about. She was always fascinated with her Guild Sister Droxanna’s art; it showed something of her people’s fierce pride in their strength.

     An Orc sitting cross-legged on the floor looked up at the sound of her entrance, “Shinoa! I wasn’t expecting you today my little bean.” Shinoa laughed despite the irritation that she had been feeling all evening. Droxanna was a slightly built Orc Shaman, trained as an Overlord.

     She was bent over a scroll, Shinoa noticed. “Are you reading those _el sah toa_ again, sister?” The Blade Dancer asked.

     The Overlord nodded, motioning for Shinoa to sit across from her. “Of course! I love these stories, so much humor!” Droxanna laughed deeply, then frowned, “Something bothering you again, Shin?”

     Avoiding the Orc’s concerned eyes, Shinoa pretended to study the totem pole beside her. A head of a bear, expertly carved, seemingly alive in the flickering candle light, roared silently at her. “I... I am afraid Droxanna, anxious… Worried… But I do not know why.”

     Droxanna stretched out a long, green-skinned arm to poke Shinoa playfully, drawing a laugh. “Fear of the unknown, perhaps? Fear of _knowing_ , at last? The dreadful suspicion that things are exactly as you believe them to be? Reminds me of an old Orc story... maybe for later, hmm?” Droxanna red-green hair cast an eerie shadow from the candles, matching her deep green eyes that had a tint of red to them. “You must learn to conquer these fears of yours… Without facts to strengthen them, they are but the heights of your imagination!” She chuckled, “Don’t worry, silly Drow.”

     Shinoa gazed into the scroll that lay between her and Droxanna, incomprehensible to her. “You offer good counsel, Droxanna. If you’ll have me, I’ll stop by tomorrow morning to share a cup of tea.”

     The Overlord grinned, before giggling at a memory, “But none of that sheep root tea of yours, please, that makes me choke.”

     Shinoa patted her friend on the shoulder as she stood, “‘til tomorrow, then.”

      

***

      

     _“Shinoa come quickly! It’s your sister!”_

     _Pulling a tunic over her smallclothes, Shinoa raced out of her room and down the steps to the hallway below. It had been two weeks since her sister had descended into the depths of the School of the Dark Arts for her trials to become a wizard. She had sent no word in that time, and Shinoa had begun to worry. She loved her sister dearly and feared the worst. Rounding the end of the hallway, and on into the front room, she slid to a halt, gasping at what she saw._

     _An old Drow crouched over a body on the floor, a few steps in from the entrance to the house. The Elder must have carried it inside. A flash of lightning lit the room, showing the pools of water tracked in by Tetrearch Thiefiell. The rumble of thunder shook the house, drowning out the incantation the village leader spoke. He was muttering some healing spell Shinoa could not recognize._

     _The body drew her eye. “Ulana?” she whispered, catching sight of a massive circular burn that crossed her back, rising and falling slowly with her breathing. “Ulana!” Shinoa screamed as she ran forward. Her brother appeared at her elbow, catching her around the waist, holding her back from reaching her sister. “Dhub, let go, let me go!”_

     _“Silence child, screaming will not help her! Close the door, make yourself useful!” Thiefiell yelled over the pulsing green aura that spilled from his hands. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Shinoa pushed the wooden door closed, drawing the latch tight before turning to watch. Ulana’s breathing had almost returned to normal, but the burn, if that’s what it was, still blazed red against her dark gray skin._

     _“Ulana... please be alright... please...” Shinoa sobbed quietly, praying, afraid to move or speak aloud in case she interfered with the Tetrearch’s spell._

     _“This is not normal, this should have healed by now,” the Village Elder muttered to himself, leaning close to examine the ragged flesh, seeing more clearly now what symbols were charred into the young Dark Elf’s back, “What is this evil… Stand back, quickly!”_

     _Deft hands drew glowing Patterns in the air as the Tetrearch glowed with powerful magic, he swiftly chanted an incantation, his words thunder in the small room; the spell complete, the room shook, a violent red flash of light blinding Shinoa. As the glow subsided, Thiefiell inspected the Seal he placed on the young wizard, before standing, his hands burnt and bleeding. He motioned at Shinoa, waving toward Ulana, “Put her to bed, she should be fine now... I hope.”_

     _The glowing red burn had faded, the skin of her back knit back together, leaving pale white markings against the gray of her skin. Shinoa ran to her, gently reaching out to touch her sister’s back, gasping at the heat that still poured from her skin. Steam or smoke, it was hard to tell which, still rose from the largest markings. The girl grasped her sister by the arm, motioned for her brother to help her._

     

***

      

     Shinoa woke with a start, heart pounding as she listened to the storm raging outside the Inn. A desperate groan slipped from her throat, _Of course I’d lose sleep tonight!_ she thought as she ground her teeth together, driving the palms of her hands hard into her eyes, rubbing the memory away. Rolling onto her side, she stared at the brick wall, dreading the long wait before sleep would claim her again.

      

*****


	2. Chapter 2

     

     

     Shinoa breathed deep, savoring the incense lingering within the Temple. The elaborately painted walls and marble floor were hard for her to take in all at once; she had only seen such religious artistry that elaborate in the deepest Temples in her homeland. She made a wry comment over her shoulder about the expertise of humans in their decorations. Rhianwen heard it, naturally, her fine ears twitching as she giggled. The Elf proffered her opinion about Shinoa’s tastes in art. It earned her a glare, but she only laughed lightly and told Shinoa to follow her to the High Priest of the Temple.

     They entered the small office of the High Priest. The office was simple, with a small study in one corner and only two paintings on the wall. Both depicted Einhasad, Shinoa observed; this brought a small sneer to her lips. She did not enjoy this place, this home of some _other_ Goddess, but it was necessary as Rhianwen tugged on her cloak to speak up. The short, balding man at the study smiled up at them and asked what business two elves had in a Temple not of their upbringing. Rhianwen handed him the note that DragonClaw had given her before they had left the Inn. The short man took it and after reading over it carefully, he stood up and with a cheerful grin on his face asked Shinoa and Rhianwen to follow.

     Leading them up the winding steps, the short Headmaster spoke cheerfully of the “Bishop” that had been staying at the Temple for quite some time. She had not had many visitors of late, had been in her quarters for quite a while, days perhaps, but he was certain she would be pleased to see them. As they climbed the last few steps, Shinoa felt a tingle run along her skin. She glanced at Rhian and said quickly, quietly, “There are wards here. But why?” Rhianwen looked at her quizzically, giving her a look that meant she had felt nothing and not to worry.

     They continued down the hallway, stopping at a door at the end. “You will find the woman you seek behind this door,” the human said cheerfully and briskly walked away.

     Rhianwen looked at Shinoa and smiled, “She will be very glad to see you. She was your sister’s best friend.” Shinoa looked back at her levelly, not knowing what to say. Grasping the knob firmly, she made to push open the door when the Spellsinger placed a hand on her arm. “I am loathe to mention it,” she began.

     “Something _else_ you don’t feel like telling me?” Shinoa’s words bit harder than she intended, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the Elf waved her mumbled apology aside.

     “I wanted only for you to be able to form _your own_ opinions of her, without being…” she trailed off, hand motioning vaguely in the air as she searched for the right word, “ _influenced_ by our feelings for her.” She shook her head as a pitiable expression settled on her face. “I don’t want to give you a poor impression of her, but I don’t want you to worry needlessly either.” Rhianwen paused for a heartbeat before continuing, her voice soft, “If she… becomes lost, just give her a moment to find her way back to you. A hand on the arm works wonders.”

     Shinoa opened her mouth to respond, some snark about lost sheep perhaps, but she only grew more confused by what her Guild Sister had said. _What?_ Staring at Rhianwen, searching her eyes for something further, the Dark Elf slowly realized that this was, yet again, all that would be said to her. Shinoa breathed out heavily, gritting her teeth to bite back a grunt of irritation. “Well, thank you, I guess?” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Whatever you meant by that, anyway.”

     “I have some other... things to attend to sister. I’ll leave you with the Bishop,” Rhianwen said, “DragonClaw should be stopping in later to see her as well. I will come back for you later, ok?” Shinoa nodded in acknowledgment as the Elf turned, walking back down the hallway toward the staircase. The Spellsinger’s voice floated back down the hallway, “I’ll have them send up some tea in a bit!”

     Rolling her eyes—just a bit, tea did sound wonderful—the young Blade Dancer tried the doorknob. Finding it unlocked, she pushed the door in slowly as she stared into the well-lit room. Sunlight spilled in through an open window, waist-high and wide, illuminating the face of a woman sitting on the thick stone window-sill, her bare feet propped atop a wooden chest beneath the window. A fiery mane cast glints of red about her face, turning the pale woman’s face a healthier shade of pink. Dressed in a simple white cotton gown, this human looked unremarkable; the woman had hardly registered the presence of her visitor. Shinoa had been told she was going to see a Bishop... but she had thought one so learned would be wearing the emerald-and-white of Karmian, at least.

     A worn dresser stood in the window-wall corner by the bed, no doubt containing what few possessions this woman still held dear... if any. A simple desk and chair occupied the side of the room to Shinoa’s right, across from the small rough-hewn bed set against the wall to her left. Paper and ink were strewn about the desk, with stacks of books on and around it, several thicker than any Shinoa had seen before. Gold leafing glittered faintly in the morning sun, the titles of the books incomprehensible to those outside the church of Einhasad.

     _Her eyes are closed,_ Shinoa noticed, _is she asleep?_ A twinge of anger ran through her chest, _‘She wants to see you’ and yet she sleeps?!_ But the woman looked straight at her when Shinoa closed the door. Her bright green eyes studied Shinoa slowly, reminding Shinoa of a cat watching a mouse, readying itself to pounce. She shuddered, felt that faint crawling in her skin again, pulsing lightly, until she released the doorknob.

     The Bishop smiled sadly before looking back out the window, the sunlight glinting off her bright red hair. She began to speak, “You look—” she coughed, her voice hoarse and low, probably the first words she’d uttered in days if the High Priest were to be believed. She worried her hands as she tried again, fussing with the sleeve of her dress, “You look just like her.” Hesitantly, she looked back to the Dark Elf, “Your eyes are remarkably the same.” She made a small motion toward the door, the hallway beyond, “You could feel them?” Shinoa nodded, and the woman hummed, making a face as if she were not surprised, “Dark Elves have an affinity for sensing traps and tripwires… I must be careful, even here,” she added, as if that explained the guarding magic.

     The woman stood, facing Shinoa, her hands clasped in front of her. When she did not speak, Shinoa cleared her throat, “I-I have come, I mean, Dra- uh, m-my…” The Drow clenched her eyes shut, _horrified_ , rubbing her temples and cursing her stumbling tongue.

     The Bishop silenced her worries with a soft smile, “No need to be afraid, Shinoa. I should introduce myself.” The human gave a deep bow, her movements a bit stiff, “I am called Shadowhyn, daughter of Kariene, daughter of Jade,” The Blade Dancer smiled at the familiar formality of the greeting. "I've been looking forward to the day that I could meet my Sister's sister," Shadowhyn continued, "and I imagine we have much to discuss."

     She paused, eyes cast down at the floor, running the toes of her right foot along the edges of the fitted stone. Tears welled up in her eyes, causing her view of the room to swim, blooming bright. “The... Your sister... Ula—” The name caught in her throat, her mouth moving wordlessly for a moment. She looked up at Shinoa, still standing by the doorway. Shadowhyn cleared her throat. “Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

     The Bishop turned to the window, leaning out and looking in both directions. “Ah, Rhianwen brought you, I see.” She looked back at Shinoa, who had leaned against the foot of the bed, her blades left standing by the door. “And a Blade Dancer, after your mother’s heart... Your sister often told me of your progress. I could see her love for you, in her eyes. I-I don’t... I _won’t_ pretend to know the Dark Elf ways about family... but know that she was so, so very proud of you.”

     Shinoa looked away from the Bishop’s gaze, still slightly unnerved by her knowledge. “She never said so... in those words, of course. I could tell… I’m sure I could.” Shinoa looked back at the woman standing before her. With the sunlight shining in, Shinoa could see the frailness hidden beneath the white cotton gown.

     Shadowhyn coughed, which turned into a small laugh. A wry smile appeared on her lips. “My headmaster once said, ‘A path of study has a beginning and an end’... I’ve walked my path for quite some time, and now yours has brought you here,” she said, smiling as she settled down on the window sill, drawing her legs up to her chest to wrap her arms around her knees. “I will tell you what I know. A-any questions you have, I will do my best to answer.”

     Shinoa’s eyes widened, surprised that this _stranger_ would be so open with her. Shadowhyn noticed, and blinked as a tear ran down her face. “Family... is so important… I take it DragonClaw and Rhianwen held their silence?” Shinoa nodded, struggling to keep her face from showing how she felt about that. The human looked up at the sky, blinking back another tear, “I-I am sorry for that. It was by my request.” The Dark Elf began to protest, if only to ease the poor woman’s guilt, but Shadowhyn waved a hand, “ _No_ … no, it truly was _selfish_ of me to want to be the one to tell you, especially when… I… I am...” She shook her head, moving on, “It’s been too long. I cannot deny you the knowledge that you seek, regardless of how hard it may be for me to speak.” The Bishop laughed, the sound a soft, light melody that filled the room. Shinoa was beginning to think she knew what her sister saw in this woman.

     Shinoa looked at the woman for a moment. She could sense the nervousness running through the red-haired Bishop’s hands, she could see the wary green eyes, struggling to maintain contact with the Dark Elf’s amber gaze. _What could have happened to her?_ Shinoa wondered, deciding to start with some easy questions.

     “What was she like?” Shinoa asked quietly, “I knew her as my older sister, but what was she like as a Guild Sister, a… a friend?”

     The human rested her head on her knee, smiling softly, eyes closed as she remembered, “She was wonderful… She was kind, always looking to help those around her. She was generous as well, with her time too, not just her adena,” Shadowhyn’s voice was soft, wistful. “She was warm and soft at times, harsh and severe at others. She was a fierce defender, a loyal companion. She took care of me, making sure I slept or ate when I grew too forgetful. She saved my skin more times than I can count,” she laughed, once, before her throat grew too thick with emotion, “I-I… I tried to do the same for her, in return.”

     The Bishop fell silent, staring at her clasped hands as she rubbed her thumbs together. Shinoa waited patiently, several long moments passing before the red-haired woman spoke again, “She trusted me with her life, and I her with mine.” She exhaled slowly, drawing in another ragged breath, “She was a powerful Summoner, a true force to be reckoned with.” A tiny smile appeared on the woman’s face, “She single-handedly turned the tide of many an encounter, her steel flashing alongside her servitors, fell winds raging against our enemies.”

     Shinoa grinned, _Yes!_ she leaned forward, listening, _This is what I’d wanted_. “I wish I could have seen her like that myself,” the young Drow’s voice was gentle.

     Shadowhyn nodded, “She looked forward to having you join the Guild. It was already decided for you, I’m afraid,” she chuckled, “Not even her darling little sister could have changed her plans for your future.”

     Shinoa scoffed at that, “I could have used my pout and my tears, she would have been so much clay in my hands!”

     The Bishop laughed, the sound filling the room again, “Oh child, how I wish I could have seen that!” She tipped her head, resting it on her shoulder with a sigh, “A fine actress you are, I’m sure. I know I could never refuse her pleading amber eyes.” The woman gently rocked forward and back, pushing her toes against the window-sill. She gave Shinoa a look, inviting and open.

     Shinoa tapped at her chin for a moment before asking, “When did you meet? Where, even?”

     “Oh, now let me think,” the human hummed softly to herself as she squinted, “let’s see now… It was soon after I came to the mainland. I was… alone, and had just finished my Mystics training here. I’d made a friend of Master Thainn while traveling through Gludin Harbor, but I didn’t meet Ulana until I’d reached the fields of Gludio.”

     _Thainn?!_ Irritation flared in Shinoa’s chest as she balled her fists, her voice an angry hiss, “Thainn never _once_ mentioned you to me! In all that time I—”

     “Remember, Shinoa,” the red-haired woman placed a hand on the Dark Elf’s arm, cutting her short, “ _I’m_ the one to blame,” she finished softly, unable to meet those piercing amber eyes. “I can see the anger you hold at having been kept in the dark for so many years,” she pulled her hand back, squeezing her legs tight against her chest as she hid her face in her knees. “I wanted to see you earlier, b-but I was afraid. One day turned into two, then three. Then ten. Then twenty. Months into years. I was _sure_ you hated me by then… I was a _coward_ ,” she said, bitterly.

     Shinoa wanted to stay angry; those long years weighed heavy on her, primed as fuel for the fire in her chest. But watching this… broken woman hold herself? It felt wrong, somehow. She breathed out slowly, smiling quickly at the two glints of green that appeared behind that curtain of red hair. “I am sorry for interrupting,” the Dark Elf said carefully, “please, continue?”

     The human nodded as she rubbed the back of a fist across her eyes, clearing her throat, “I was in the fields to the south of Gludio, purifying some of the Undead that roam that area. I think I was resting? Or maybe running away from some creature, that sounds more likely,” the two smiled at each other, “And then… she was there. She asked if I needed help; I must have said yes because she didn’t leave my side after that.” She smiled slow, shaking her head in disbelief, “She was the center of it all. The Guild, I mean. After she found me, we found Phoebus, Mauldis, Rhianwen, Pendragon… But she was the one to gather us together,” Shadowhyn paused, looking up at Shinoa, “I was— _am—_ too shy, too timid for such a task. She was not.”

     The Blade Dancer grunted as she remembered playing with Ulana as a small child, “Yes, that _does_ sound like her. She could always get all the other children to do what she wanted.” Shinoa ran her fingers through her hair, muttering, “it made me _sooo_ mad.”

     Shadowhyn giggled, covering her mouth with a hand, “As I said before, I couldn’t refuse her either.” She sighed before going completely still, her body frozen aside from her eyes; they darted here and there around the room, landing on the door. Shinoa tensed as the Bishop slid from her perch on the window-sill, grabbing at the Dark Elf’s arm, hissing, “ _Did you come alone?_ ” Shinoa shrugged her shoulders in confusion, her expression showing the same, “ _Was anyone out there when you came in?”_ the Bishop whispered, trembling as she hid behind the bedframe.

     Shinoa shook her head, “No, no one. Why? Wh—” A knock at the door drew her short, her full attention snapping to the entrance. _Why is she scared?_ She placed a reassuring hand on the Bishop’s shoulder before stepping clear of the bed, swiftly drawing the long knife from her leg sheath. “Yes?” she called out, taking careful measured paces to the door. She crouched slightly, the knife held ready.

     “Tea, ma’am!” came the muffled voice from the other side of the door, “The Lady Elf said to bring some up for you and your visitor.” Shinoa turned to look at Shadowhyn, giving the shivering woman a shrug. Getting only a panicked stare in return, the Dark Elf turned back to the door. Holding the knife behind her back, she stepped to the side as she pulled the door open. One of the temple acolytes stood before her, holding a platter with delicate tea cups and a tea pot, a sweet flowery scent wafting in the air. The acolyte smiled, her eyes widening a bit at the imposing Dark Elf’s presence, before bobbing a tiny greeting.

     Shinoa nodded, “Thank you. I will take that, if you please.” The Blade Dancer balanced the tray on her free hand, slowly pushing the door shut with her foot as she kept her eyes on the retreating acolyte. She turned back to the window, concern written on her face. Stepping quickly, Shinoa placed the tea tray on the wooden chest before sheathing her knife as she knelt by the foot of the bed.

     Shadowhyn huddled in the small space between the bedframe and the chest of drawers, trembling, leaning weakly into the corner made by the bed touching the wall. One hand rubbed at a strange scar that ran across her collarbone, disappearing under the neckline of her white gown, her other hand clapped tightly over her eyes. She took a great shuddering breath before murmuring to herself. Shinoa tilted her head slightly, training an ear toward the small woman, “ _—it’s ok, it’s ok, just tea, it’s ok—_ "

     Fearful of how she might respond, Shinoa hesitantly reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. The red-haired woman froze. “Are you alright?” the Drow asked quietly, carefully. The woman shook her head once, quickly, then paused a heartbeat before nodding. _Is this what Rhianwen was talking about?_ the Dark Elf wondered as she looked about, sizing up the floor where they sat, nodding at the idea that came to mind. “Is there room for me to sit next to you?” Shinoa asked kindly.

     Shadowhyn caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she held back a sob. She pulled her hand away from her face, using it to push herself around, setting her back square against the bedframe. She hung her head as she wrapped her arms around her chest, her knees bent, feet resting against the chest of drawers. A deep red blush crept up her face, almost touching her hairline, as she whispered, “ _Sorry_.”

     Shinoa turned, leaning her back against the bedframe, setting the tea tray on the floor next to her. She slid herself close to the pale woman, bumping her arm with her shoulder, “Would you like a cup of tea?” the young Blade Dancer asked. When the Bishop nodded, Shinoa held out a cup & saucer, waiting patiently until the woman reached for them. Lifting the other cup, Shinoa tested its temperature carefully before taking a sip. “Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. _This is delicious!_

     “B-better than you th-thought it would be?” Shadowhyn asked, trying to pull a grin before sighing. She set her cup down on the stone floor before letting herself go limp, releasing a long breath with a groan. Shinoa glanced at her from the corner of her eye as she took another sip of her tea, deciding to let the calm moment linger. Clouds drifted across the sky, and soon the morning sunlight speared the room, the two women sitting in its warm gaze. Shinoa closed her eyes. After some time, a faint ringing drew her attention, and she opened one eye.

     Shadowhyn ran a fingertip around the rim of her tea cup, searching for the right words. “I— the priests, it…” stumbling to a halt, she rubbed at her temples with her thumbs, then sat up straight, no longer slouching against the bed, “I was not… _expecting_ anyone else…” Shinoa opened both eyes to watch the human make vague motions with her hand, “The wards I set… the priests and acolytes don’t always… set them off?” Shadowhyn picked up her cup, taking a sip of tea, “A person suddenly at my door startled me.”

     Shinoa nodded, understanding. “I would not let you come to harm,” she said firmly.

     Shadowhyn’s laugh was humorless, “I know! I know,” she sighed again, “I’ve been too long alone...” She pitched her voice low, so quiet the Drow almost missed it, “ _Some days, I’m too afraid to leave my room_.” Shinoa frowned as the woman continued to stare at her tea. The human mumbled her thanks as the Dark Elf refilled their cups; in time the pair enjoyed their tea, the comfortable sunlight, the companionable silence. The red-haired woman set her cup down on its saucer before turning to Shinoa, “I know you have more questions.” The human nodded at Shinoa’s pointed glance, “Go on, I’m fine.”

     Shinoa held her tea cup gently, cradling it in both hands. She ran a thumb along the edge of its handle as she wondered how to ask. _Just spit it out_. Nervously she looked at the woman sitting next to her, “What _was_ she to you?”

     A sad smile played across the woman’s face as she shrugged, “I loved her,” simply, like stating a fact, “more than I could express.” At the unspoken question she could see in the young Dark Elf’s eyes, she added, “I think she loved me, too. She…” a deep breath, “She was gone before I could say goodbye. That’s what hurts the most, I think.”

     Shinoa exhaled slowly, before asking, softly, “Did she speak of me?”

     Shadowhyn looked at her, emerald eyes shimmering. She laid a pale hand on the young Dark Elf’s arm, “ _All the time_ ,” she whispered, her voice thick, “She loved every letter you sent, every report from your school, good _or_ bad—no, I _am_ serious—any opportunity she had to speak of you… she took it.” The human patted the Drow’s arm before withdrawing her hand, “I almost felt as if I had another little sister of my own.” She smiled shyly, running her fingers through her hair, brushing it back behind her ears, “You meant the world to her.”

     Something about that didn’t settle right. Shinoa gathered the tea service, standing to set the platter atop the chest of drawers as a pretense to step away from this strange woman, to have a moment to think. Her thoughts spun in circles, whatever it was that bothered her, she found she was unable to put it to words yet.

     Shadowhyn wobbled a bit as she stood, moving to sit down on the window-sill again. She could see the way the Blade Dancers shoulders were set, the angle of her ears. She knew something was bothering the young Dark Elf, having spent so much time with her sister. Their mannerisms were similar.

     That bothered Shinoa more, knowing that this mystic, this _stranger_ could read her like a book. That understanding in her eyes, _Is that pity?!_ set the fire in her chest ablaze. Shadowhyn opened her mouth to speak, to say something, _Offering some platitude, next?_ the Dark Elf seethed, cut her off, “No.”

     “What is it?” Shadowhyn asked.

     Shinoa shook her head, folding her arms over her chest, “No.” She turned away from the human, still sitting in her window. _It wasn’t fair_.

     “You don’t want to say it,” the Bishop said.

     “You won’t—” the Dark Elf clenched her fists.

     “You feel guilty thinking it,” the red-haired woman stated.

     “ _Don’t_ tell me—” Shinoa began to protest, her eyes flaring.

     “You think I’ll lie to you to make you care for me.”

     Her voice was calm, but the words burned in Shinoa’s ears. _How could she know?_ Now that the words had been spoken aloud, she couldn’t ignore them any longer. She growled as she spun to face the woman in the window, struggling to control her anger, “ _Where were you, then?!_ ” she shouted, “If you _cared_ so much about her, if _I_ meant so much to you, why am I only _now_ meeting you?” Gritting her teeth, she stared at the human, willed herself not to cry. She shook as she turned, stalked to the door, turning back when she reached the wall. “I lost _everyone,_ and no one would tell me why! They treat me like a _child!_ ” The Blade Dancer hunched her shoulders as she walked back toward the human, anger still clawing her chest. She couldn’t keep the words in if she wanted to; she pointed, directing her venom, “Even now, because of _you!_ ”

     She wanted to hit something, to _break_ something, but a small thread of shame ran through the back of her mind. She expected to see the woman distraught, already cursing herself for her angry words. Rage and guilt wrestled in her stomach, neither winning, both making her ill. Seeing the frail Bishop with her head held high and steel in her spine caused Shinoa to smile despite herself. _Good_.

     “I have done _unconscionable_ things in my time, Shinoa,” the woman stated, just another fact, “so I do not ask forgiveness.” Her eyes were focused on the Dark Elf, easily holding her gaze, “I believed hiding here would protect you and the Guild, and I did so _knowing_ what it might do to you.” She stood, approaching the young Blade Dancer, “I regret compounding your sorrows, but I would do it again if it kept you safe. I do not tell you these things to be friendly, I tell you because I _owe_ you the truth.” Tentatively she laid a hand on a gray-skinned shoulder, “I _will not_ lie to you,” she paused, “I only ask your patience, as I have so much to tell.”

     “Protect us from what?” Shinoa asked, her anger fading before the pale woman’s honesty, “What could our Guild need protection from?”

     Shadowhyn’s eyes searched her face for a moment before she answered, “The one who killed your sister.”

     

*****


	3. Chapter 3

     

     

     “You may not believe what I am going to tell you, as it _is_ absurd. It goes against the grain of the world,” Shadowhyn looked down at the floor again, “but I am right.” She turned back to the window-sill, sitting down heavily, “Which is another reason why I am here. I cannot stop him while confined in some asylum.”

     Shinoa paused, unsure of how to answer. The human motioned for the Dark Elf to sit on the window-sill. Looking out at the village below them, Shinoa breathed deep, enjoying the fresh air. “As prisons go,” she grinned at the Bishop, “this is not so bad.” Shadowhyn laughed, nodding in agreement.

     Shinoa looked at the red-haired woman, blinking as tears began to form in her amber eyes, “I miss my sister. It grates against my very being to show weakness... but I cannot stop the tears. I feel it disrespects her memory to show that kind of sadness... But my heart... does what it wants.” The Drow paused, looking out over the Village. The sunlight shimmered across the platinum hair Shinoa had drawn away from her face. She smiled, faintly. “Ulana would have understood.” The human nodded, scattering red highlights across the floor.

     The Bishop paused as she considered words to say, tears collecting in her eyes, causing glints of green to appear. “I’m so sorry she wasn’t there for you,” she said softly.

     Shinoa shook her head, waving a hand in dismissal, “Tell me what you believe.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, asked, “What do you know of the Elements?”

     The Dark Elf was not expecting that kind of question. “The Dark Elves have mastered the very Winds,” Shinoa smiled, proud of her people’s accomplishments, “Your people have gained the use of Fire, and... I believe the Dwarves and Orcs share a connection with the Earth.” Shinoa sneered lightly; Shadowhyn thought she knew what she would hear next. “The... Others... have gained strength with Water, as well.” Shinoa’s cheeks flushed, then faded. “Forgive my... prejudices. Rhianwen is precious to me. Do not doubt my devotion to my Guild Sisters.”

     Shadowhyn smiled. “I too share your devotion. And yes, you are correct.” She faltered, looking out over the rooftops, then back towards her visitor. “The Learned of Aden would have all of their students believe that each race is confined to only one Element. I do not.” The Bishop saw the confusion and disbelief surface in the Dark Elf’s eyes. The woman shifted where she sat, visibly uncertain of herself, of saying her thoughts aloud. “I sometimes doubt myself, but it’s the only way that it all makes sense.” Shadowhyn swallowed and sat still for a moment, then continued.

     “When I was young, away at my Mystics training, my family was killed. Not much is known about what happened. We lived in a house between the Obelisk and the Elven Library... all that remains are some of the foundation’s stones. Until recently, I never questioned the fact that moss and other plants refuse to grow on the ruins. I also never gave another thought to the obvious dark magicks lingering there... I guess I always considered it to be the side effect of two mages powerful in the Sacred Arts dying there.” The Bishop stood and gestured towards her desk. “I’ve been studying books and manuscripts from both the Temple and the Elven Library, and I’ve come to believe the destruction of the Library and my parent’s deaths are connected.” She paused, looking at Shinoa. The Dark Elf nodded, her eyes signaling the woman to continue.

     “The connection is not so obvious as to be immediately believable. Of my pledge-family, only DragonClaw believed me, but only because of certain… _things_ she had experienced. Ulana would have trusted me, even though my conclusions ran against all that she had ever been taught.” Shadowhyn perched lightly on the foot of her bed as Shinoa turned.

     “Against... her teachings?”

     “Yes.” Shadowhyn ran her fingers across the rough-hewn wood of her bed, “This will be hard to believe, but please let me finish my story before you cast judgment.” Shinoa nodded, settled onto the stone window sill, and gave her host her full attention.

     “Most humans, those who’ve followed the Wizard’s path, continue their journey as powerful Sorcerers, able to conjure and control the Flame.” Shadowhyn shifted uncomfortably, “There are some wizards, however, that are enticed by Death... and seek guidance in darker magic. Learning techniques not to raise the dead, as Clerics and Bishops do, they instead learn techniques to dominate and control the dead... Creating minions from the poor souls they encounter.” The Bishop folded her arms and shivered. “Necromancy is a forbidden art... a magic as black as the twisted souls who wield it.”

     “Necromancy?!” Shinoa gasped, “But I thought that power was just a legend!”

     Shadowhyn closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head vehemently, “No, it’s _not_ a legend! How else would you explain the Undead infesting the Elven Ruins, or the School of the Dark Arts, or the Execution Grounds, or the—”

     “Alright, alright... I’ll concede on this point; as a Bishop, I trust you know what you’re talking about.” Shinoa looked cross, yet determined to get to the bottom of this mystery she was presented with.

     Shadowhyn looked at her visitor, her eyes softening. “Forgive my outburst... I question myself on this same matter...” the woman slid onto the bed, her face buried in her hands. Shinoa crossed the room and sat next to her. Haltingly, the Elf put one hand around the woman’s shoulders. “And forgive my questioning your expertise. I do believe in the existence of Necromancy... As hard as it is to think of it as anything other than a legend, I’ve seen enough in my travels to believe that you are correct.”

     The Bishop wiped her eyes on her sleeve and laughed, “Thank you Shinoa. I appreciate your patience with me.” Shadowhyn rubbed her hands, thinking. “I believe... A Necromancer killed my parents.” Shinoa’s eyes widened. “I also believe the same Necromancer was responsible for the destruction of the Elven Library.” Shadowhyn could feel Shinoa’s hand stiffen on her shoulder. “I don’t know the reason, if any, of the Library or my home’s destruction... that’s why I’m studying the manuscripts contained within the Library. I believe something written there can tell me more about this Necromancer... something more that can confirm... or disprove... my fears.”

     “Your... fears?” Shinoa asked softly.

     Shadowhyn nodded, “The Necromancer responsible for so much...” the Bishop looked at her visitor, trembling, “was... or _is_... a Dark Elf.”

     Shinoa’s eyes widened in shock. “A Dark Elf... Necromancer?!” As open as she had tried to be with this woman, Shinoa was certain such a being could not exist. “I’m sorry, this is just too—”

     Shadowhyn stood quickly, pulling away from the hand Shinoa had rested on the woman’s shoulder. “Impossible?!” Shadowhyn exclaimed, “Is it too frightening a thought to believe? I _am_ correct.”

     “But why a Drow?” Shinoa stood, putting her hands on the human’s shoulders. “What drew you to that conclusion?” She turned the Bishop around to look her in the eye, “What possible means could create such a person?”

     Shadowhyn shied away, unable to look her visitor in the eye. “I don’t know! I don’t know _how_ it’s possible, just that it _is_!”

     The woman turned and pulled a scroll out of the stack of papers on her desk, motioning towards a section of inscribed runes, circular Patterns surrounded by sigils, “I also believe this same necromancer was hiding at the School of the Dark Arts not twenty years ago.” Shinoa inhaled sharply, causing Shadowhyn to pause, and turn.

     “What... did you say?” Shinoa breathed, her eyes and voice trembling.

     _…the Village Elder muttered to himself, seeing more clearly now what symbols were charred into the young Dark Elf’s back, “What is this evil?”_

     Shadowhyn set the scroll back on top of her desk, turning to look Shinoa in the eye. “That this same Dark Elven Necromancer was, at one time, hiding deep within the School of the Dark Arts.” Shadowhyn watched as the Dark Elf’s face turned pale, “You… you know I’m right!”

     Shinoa shook her head, drawing a ragged breath as she took a step away from the human, “N-no, I—”

     The woman took a step forward, still holding the scroll out for the Dark Elf’s eyes, “You’ve seen symbols like these before, haven’t you?” she gestured towards the Patterns, “somewhere in that school!” The Bishop’s eyes lit up as a thought took hold, “Oh, on some creature, perhaps?”

     _…The glowing burn had faded, leaving pale white markings against the gray of her skin…_

     Shinoa clenched her fists, her chest burning again, tears springing to the corners of her eyes, “She was just—"

     Shadowhyn didn’t notice the Dark Elf’s state, lost in thought, “We’ll have to meditate, draw those memories out.” She began to roll the parchment in her hands, tapping it against her palm as her mind raced, “There should be traces of black magic that we can still follow.”

     _“This is not normal,” the Village Elder muttered, “This is_ evil _.”_

     Shadowhyn looked up at the Blade Dancer, “Forbidden magic always brings about such evil, look at the Ivory Tower!” she said, misreading her troubled expression, “But the Sacred Arts can help cleanse such wretched beings.”

     A sudden rage flashed within Shinoa’s eyes, “ _My sister was not_ _evil!_ ” The red-haired woman recoiled at the Dark Elf’s anger, eyes wide as she stumbled away, her feet betraying her as she fell back against her desk. The Drow advanced, hands grabbing at the human’s arms, drawing her close as more rage bubbled free, “Ulana was not some _wretched being_ that needed your _cleansing!_ ”

     “ _L-let me go_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered, hoarse, her voice shaking as she stared up at those livid amber eyes.

     “You—how _dare_ you say such things about her!” the Blade Dancer spat, “How could—” Her blood ran cold, ice in her veins, suddenly seeing the fear in the small woman’s eyes, feeling how tightly she gripped her arms, cowering under her spent fury. “I—” _What have I done?_ Shame darkened her face as she released the human. Despondent, she turned away, walking toward the door. Shinoa placed her hand on the doorknob before hearing the other woman speak again.

     “ _Don’t_.” the red-haired woman said firmly, hands in shaky fists, “Don’t walk out that door without…” Shinoa looked over her shoulder at the human, who held her hand out toward the Dark Elf. “ _Tell_ me,” Shadowhyn urged.

     Shinoa turned, slumped against the door, her amber eyes filled with tears as she hid her face behind her hands, “I-I loved her so much,” she began, her voice catching. She heard the Bishop’s soft footsteps draw close, felt her press against her side as she sat down beside her. “I am sorry,” Shinoa said softly, “I dreamed last night about Ulana, about the night she came home from the School during her trials.” She leaned her head back against the door, feeling the buzzing in her skin, laying her arms out across her knees. “She was hurt. Some large burn on her back, with,” she motioned to the parchment rolled up in the humans’ hand, “symbols like those i-in a circle. I was so scared then.”

     The Bishop was silent, her eyes wide.

     Shinoa grimaced, “I’d forgotten about that night, I had not thought of it in years.” She looked at the red-haired woman, an apology written on her face, “My behavior has been unacceptable, the dream set me off balance.”

     Shadowhyn could scarcely breathe, her eyes searching rapidly over the Dark Elf’s face, looking to see if this was some cruel trick. “I saw her back, she didn’t have—"

     Shinoa nodded, gritting her teeth at the memory, “Right, they wouldn’t be there, not after Tetrearch Thiefiell put a Seal on her.”

     “ _Thiefiell?!_ ” the human hissed, “He never said anything to me about this!”

     The Dark Elf’s bark of laughter was hollow, “Did you _ask_ him about Ulana’s Seal?”

     “What? No, I didn’t _know_ ,” the Bishop sounded angry, defensive, “How could I have asked about it?”

     Shinoa waved a hand, “That is his way.” She groaned, rubbing at her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, “Chances are, he wouldn’t have told you anything important.” Shadowhyn leaned her head back against the stone wall as tears began to stream down her face. Shinoa looked at her, worry in her voice, “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

     “Yes.” The pale woman’s voice was small, but hopeful, “She never told me… That… This changes _everything_.” She turned to look at Shinoa, her green eyes sparkling, “We need to go for a walk.” She stood up and walked over to the window as the Dark Elf watched her, confused.

     “A _walk_?” Shinoa had not expected that from this… hermit.

     Excitement danced in the Bishop’s eyes as she came back to kneel in front of the Blade Dancer, “Yes, we need to go to the Elven Library; I’m _sure_ there’re some more clues there, maybe you’ll see more runes you recognize?” She paused, running a hand through her hair, pushing her red mane away from her face. Their eyes met. “I need your help,” Shadowhyn said, hesitantly, her hands clasped in her lap, “I’ve no right to ask it of you, but… Please?”

     Shinoa grinned, _As if I wouldn’t_. She laid a hand on the human’s shoulder, “What are friends for, if not to lend a hand?” She laughed when the red-haired woman threw her arms around her neck, mumbling a tearful thank-you into her shoulder.

     The red-haired woman stood, walked over to her dresser. She began rustling through her drawers in search of something. Her visitor stood as well, crossing her arms. “You’ve never been to the Island before, have you?” Shadowhyn asked, looking at the contents of the middle drawer. Shinoa shook her head. “Then I must show you the highlights of my humble birthplace,” the woman smiled at the Dark Elf, “There’s not much to see, honestly, so it won’t take that long. But it’s a beautiful morning, and we could use the fresh air.”

     Shinoa laughed, her yellow eyes sparkling in the morning sunlight, “Alright, all right… You’ve convinced me, _human_.” Shadowhyn scoffed at the Dark Elf’s joking emphasis and grinned. “Do you,” the Drow began, pointing her thumb at the door, “do you want me to leave while you—”

     “No! no, it’s okay,” Shadowhyn said, “I’ll only be a minute.” Shinoa made a face as if she were going to reply, but she just turned to look at the papers on the desk. The red-haired woman quickly changed out of her white cotton dress. Unconsciously rubbing at the scar that ran from the base of her neck to the bottom of her ribcage on her right side, Shadowhyn looked over her small collection of clothes. Selecting a gray and blue tunic from her drawer, the woman swiftly pulled it over her head, slipping her arms into the white sleeves. A matching pair of gray and blue stockings followed, then a simple pair of gloves. Shadowhyn smiled as she laced the sides of the tunic; on a bright day like this, the walk was bound to be refreshing.

     Shinoa opened a small leather-bound journal on the corner of the desk, glancing quickly at the words written within. She flipped a page, then two, lifting an eyebrow as she noticed how the handwriting changed. The first few pages contained large, shaky letters, which gradually changed to a delicate, careful hand.

     _…Time passes slowly here, on Talking Island. As I rarely leave my room, all that serves to distinguish one hour from the next are the length of the shadows on the wall. Days and nights pass, all too slowly, yet more have passed than I can account. I’ve lost track of when I was brought to the Temple…_

     She flipped a page carefully, feeling guilty for prying, knowing she should close the journal. Her eyes flashed over the neat cursive script.

     _…The High-Priest was eyeing me rather quizzically this afternoon, once I finally returned from my ‘walk’. I’m sure he’s worried about me, Einhasad bless the man. I would probably have starved to death long ago if he hadn’t made that arrangement with the innkeepers behind my back. Not that I’m against a freshly made meal delivered to my room in the evenings, but I’m beginning to think that he knows more about my ‘research’ than he lets on. How else could he have had one of the traders send over a new cloak,_ before _I returned with my old one torn to shreds?_

     _Even under the High-Priest’s watchful eye, I dare not let down my guard. I’m sure that, one day, the Necromancer I’m investigating will learn of my existence. I can only pray that I’m off this island before that day comes, else this village may be in danger._

     _I’ll never forgive myself if he hurts her because of me…._

     The Dark Elf frowned at that last sentence, flipping to another page, the bottom half of which had been ripped out of the small book.

     _All my life, I’ve done all that I could to help those in need. I think that’s the result of my up-bringing… growing up with a Prophet and a Bishop as parents will show a child the importance of the Sacred Arts. I eventually found that I had more of an affinity to the Healing Art, rather than the Strengthening Art. Not to say that my Father’s line of work was any less important… just having spent more time with my Mother growing up, I could see the Fire she had within, and_ I _wanted that._

     _Not that it did me any good… I mean, I couldn’t even—_

     The bed creaked a bit as Shadowhyn sat down, pulling a well-worn pair of boots onto her feet. Shinoa hastily closed the journal, turning to face the human as she stood. The Bishop patted her stomach as she walked to her door, smoothing the slight wrinkles in her tunic. She grabbed a battered satchel, stuffed some papers and her journal inside before tucking a small pen and inkwell into a pouch on the side of the satchel. She grabbed a cloak from the corner of her bed, tossing it over her shoulders. She looked confused, glancing over herself, “What am I forgetting?” she muttered.

     Recognition flickered across her face; the woman turned and motioned towards her desk. A hand-carved staff standing in the far corner by her desk, fashioned from some dark wood, but blackened, cracked and blistered at the top, floated into her outstretched hand. Shinoa raised an eyebrow, watching as her host opened the door, smiling widely. The Blade Dancer followed, picking up her sheathed swords from where she had propped them by the head of the bed, stepping out of the room. Shadowhyn shut her door tightly, and stood still facing it.

     Shinoa began to ask what the matter was, but before she could utter a word, the woman held up a finger. “ _Shhh_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered, “ _Stand very still, please._ ” Shinoa shifted her balance, pushing herself lightly away from the wall. The Bishop placed both hands on the door, and looked down towards the floor in concentration. A yellow-gold shimmer appeared between her fingers. As she moved her hands in a semi-circle, a Sacred Construct flared into view. Burning itself into the door, it grew to cover the entire doorframe and most of the wall. Once it touched the floor and ceiling, it faded from Shinoa’s vision, leaving nothing but blobs of light in her eyes.

     Shadowhyn turned to see Shinoa blinking. “Why do you set those?” Shinoa wiped her eyes and blinked, the spots finally dissipating.

     The Bishop brushed dust off her gloves. “One can never be too careful, even in such a place as this.” Lifting her staff once more, Shadowhyn motioned the Dark Elf to follow her.

     Shinoa watched her step in the hallway. She could barely see, at the edge of her sight, shining circles overlapping themselves covering every inch of the corridor.

     As they cleared the last step of the staircase, they could see the Priests off to the right tending to the villagers in the main section of the Temple. The High-Priest caught sight of their departure, and met them at the entrance. He smiled, his grandfatherly face wrinkling. “Be careful out there, children.”

     Shinoa saluted, and Shadowhyn bowed. “We will be careful, Father. I promise.”

     The High-Priest laughed, the deep harmonious sound echoing through the small ante-chamber. “Be mindful, young one, about the promises you make. Nevertheless,” He set his hand on the young woman’s shoulder, “Be _careful_. I don’t want to see you coming back covered with cuts and bruises again.” Shinoa raised an eyebrow.

     Shadowhyn laughed, an embarrassed sound—like she’d been caught in a lie, “I have a friend here with me. I trust she’ll also keep an eye on me.” She bowed her head to the High-Priest, a soft smile on her face. “I shan’t keep you from your work. Einhasad bless you, Father.”

     Walking out of the Temple, both the human and the Drow squinted in the sunlight. Raising her hand to shade her eyes, Shadowhyn looked towards the West Gate. “Ah,” She patted her stomach, “We need to make a stop before we set off.” She turned to Shinoa and grinned. “We will be out long enough to require a lunch.”

     

*****


	4. Chapter 4

    

    

     Shinoa glanced around as the red-haired woman led her through a back alley. _Where is she going now?_ With a start, the Dark Elf recognized the Inn where she and her Guild were boarding. “Are we going in to see—”

     “No, not right now,” The Bishop looked back at Shinoa and pointed to a side door, “This will only take a minute.” Smiling, she added softly, “I do hope he’s home.”

     Stepping up to the door, the small woman knocked a staccato rhythm on its sturdy wood. Within seconds, the door opened to reveal a young blonde woman, wiping her hands on her apron. “M’lady!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms around the Bishop's neck.

     “Daria! ‘Tis good to see you.” Shadowhyn threw her right arm around the woman, returning the hug.

     “What can I do for you?” Daria asked as she pulled away.

     “My friend and I are going for a walk, and we will need a lunch.” Shadowhyn motioned towards Shinoa, who bowed to the Inn Keeper.

     “Hello again,” Shinoa said, “I slept well, last night.”

     Daria curtsied, bowing her head to the Blade-Dancer at the complement, “Very glad to hear it.” Looking back towards the Bishop, she added, “I’ll go fetch your usual.” With a sly grin and a nod to Shinoa, Daria ran off into the building.

     Shadowhyn faced her companion, running a gloved hand through her bright red hair. “That’s Daria, she’s the sister of—”

     “ _Shadowhyn Fenrir!_ ” a deep voice bellowed from the dark of the Inn. A tall, muscular human stepped out the door, throwing his heavily scarred arms around the smaller woman. She squealed as he picked her off the ground in a bear hug. The blonde man remarked, “You’ve gotten smaller, little one!”

     Shadowhyn laughed, barely able to breathe, “If I’m losing any weight, it’s because of your cooking, Dadrabian!” The two laughed, clearly having a history of interactions like this.

     Noticing Shinoa, the man set Shadowhyn down. Bowing to the Dark Elf, he grinned. “Hail, fair Drow. I am Dadrabian. I hear you are staying in my Inn.”

     Shinoa saluted the man, “Yes, I thank you for your hospitality.”

     Dadrabian laughed heartily, “No need for such formality; any friend of the Bishop here is a friend of mine.” He cast a sideways glance at the woman, commenting in a loud stage whisper, “She can be a real handful, so watch her _carefully_.”

     Feigning a look of shock, Shadowhyn gave him a punch in the shoulder. Laughing, she turned to Shinoa. “Dadrabian here was a Knight in our Guild, back when we were young.” Glancing at the Inn Keeper, she continued. “He left once he located his sister, and later settled down here on the Island. Speaking of sisters,” Shadowhyn motioned towards Shinoa, “This is Ulana’s little sister, Shinoa.”

     Dadrabian’s eyes grew soft, “I’m sorry for your loss, Shinoa… May she rest with Shilen.”

     Shinoa nodded, noticing the muscles in Shadowhyn’s jaw tense at the mention of the Dark Elven Goddess. “Thank you for your kind words.” Shinoa looked to the doorway as Daria appeared, a large satchel in hand. Shadowhyn stepped over to speak with the proprietress, and Dadrabian pulled Shinoa a few steps away from the Inn.

     “Please,” He spoke in a hushed tone, “Watch after the Bishop. She has _changed_ since I was in the Guild. She’s frail, and an unhealthy shade of white most times I see her… Filled with fear, self-doubt.” Both the man and the Drow looked over at Shadowhyn, her eyes bright and a smile on her face as she conversed with Daria. “As well as she hides it, she is in pain.”

     Shinoa met Dadrabian’s gaze, “I will guard her with my life.” She swallowed, surprised at her own words, at the truth she felt in them. _I’ve only known her for—_

     A smile touched the man’s face. “Just like your sister. She too, fought to protect Shadaera. I leave her in your capable hands.” Shinoa held back a frown, _What did he call her?_

     “Are you done worrying yet, Rabi?” Shadowhyn called to the two, her hands on her hips, “Do I need to tell you to stop scaring away my visitors?” She and the man laughed, and stepped close for a hug.

     “Take care, little one.”

     “Stop cutting your hands in the kitchen.”

     The man laughed. “I will try. Come back if you need anything.”

     Shinoa and Shadowhyn waved to the siblings before heading towards the West Gate.

     “Did you think to put some blankets & bandages in there?” Dadrabian turned to look over his shoulder at his sister, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

     “Yes, I did.” The young proprietress looked on as the Bishop and the Dark Elf walked away. “I hope she won’t need them this time.”

    

***

    

     “Come, the merchant’s quarter is this way. I’ll need to buy some supplies before we leave the village,” the Bishop said as she turned onto a wider road. Shinoa nodded in acknowledgement, there were things that she might need as well.

     Entering the dusty shop, they greeted the shopkeeper with a smile, Shadowhyn pausing for a moment to have a few words with the elderly human. Shinoa began to peruse the items in the front of the shop, laid out on tables in neat displays, many having ‘sale!’ signs placed nearby. The Bishop walked over to stand by the Blade Dancer, fist on her hip as she looked at the items before them. She _tsked_ in irritation, “They’re out.”

     Shinoa looked down at the display, not seeing any empty sections, “What were you looking for?” the Dark Elf asked as she inspected a wax-paper wrapped brick of cured meat.

     The red-haired woman looked embarrassed to answer, “A ‘Blessed Return’ scroll. Sometimes I… run into trouble on my, uh, walks, and need to get back to town.” She gave the Dark Elf a flat look, “Right away. To not die.” She struggled to keep a straight face, but her quivering lip set both women laughing.

     Rummaging through the pouch slung over her shoulder, Shinoa stopped to pull out an ornate scroll. “This might be one?” She said as she handed it to the Bishop.

     Shadowhyn unfurled one corner, keeping the red ribbon fastened. “Yes, this will do nicely. It’ll work for more than one person, how rare.” She handed it back with a smile, “I will do my best to not force you to use it.”

     Shinoa laughed, securing it in her satchel before carrying the waxed packages up to the shopkeeper. She paid the man for her items, and turned to join Shadowhyn. Rounding a corner to switch to the aisle where she’d last seen a flash of red, the Dark Elf almost walked into a massive Orc admiring the fine blades hanging on the back wall. “Lord Viper!” She exclaimed, giving him the Guild salute, “I didn’t realize you’d be joining us.”

     He returned her greeting, a fist to the chest and a short bow. “How are you, Shin?” his deep voice rumbled through the shop. He chuckled, “I’m sure you’ll be surprised by all the faces that appear, DragonClaw—” He paused, looking around the store before continuing, his voice slightly quieter, “DragonClaw basically threatened everyone with loss of life and limb if they didn’t show.”

     Shinoa grinned, “Why am I not surprised.” She glanced around, finding the red-haired woman close by, “I’d like you to meet someone,” she said, her amber eyes reflecting the light pouring in through the shop front. She took the woman by the elbow, walking her gently back to the Orc. “Shadowhyn, this is Lord Viper, our Guild’s Destroyer.”

     Stooping to one knee, Lord Viper gave a deep bow to the Bishop, “Pleased to meet you, Shadowhyn.” She gave a bow in return as he rumbled on, “I must say, I have heard such tales about you from Phoebus and Pendragon that I was sure you didn’t actually exist.”

     “Hopefully they were tales that retained my mythical status,” She grinned, “I’d hate for my existence to call to question anything else they told you.”

     “Oh…” He said, looking down at the floor, “Oh dear.” He glanced up at the two women and grinned, the three laughing lightly.

     Shinoa bowed again, this time in farewell, “We must be going now. I’m afraid we have some business to attend too.” Lord Viper waved as the human and the Dark Elf walked out of the shop.

     Shadowhyn pointed toward a stone bridge spanning a small waterway that wound through this part of the village, “We can cross here, the Gate is just beyond that row of houses.” The Bishop reached the bridge, trailing her fingers along the waist-high stone wall, her footsteps echoing softly as she walked. She frowned, something nagging at the back of her mind.

     Shinoa kept pace with the red-haired woman, her long strides out of step with the human. She glanced over her shoulder, a group of children approaching the bridge behind them. Laughing and squealing, the rowdy younglings dashed by the two women, their footsteps ringing against the stone. Shadowhyn clutched the stone wall, her knees going weak as a loud rushing noise filled her ears, her heart racing in her chest. Her vision wavered.

    

***

    

     _The pillars of light, the physical manifestation of the Bishop’s healing spell, sent a flash of auburn and gold around the three adventurers. It briefly illuminated the walls of the room they had come into._

     _Shadowhyn knew something was wrong as soon as Ulana screamed._

     _The Summoner fell to her knees, dropping her swords as she clutched her stomach. Landing hard on her right shoulder, Ulana began coughing. Dark reddish-black blood splashed on the stone in front of the Dark Elf, as she struggled to push herself up._

     _“Ula?” DragonClaw called, standing up from where she leaned against the wall. She glanced at the stone doors, but the Paladin heard no signs of pursuit so far._

     _“_ Ula! _” Shadowhyn cried, running to her side. Dropping her staff as she knelt next to her friend, the red-haired woman threw her arms around the Dark Elf. “Sister? Sister! What’s wrong?” The human’s voice was shaking, “What happened?”_

     _Ulana gasped, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “_ I… I don’t— _” She coughed again, blood staining the Bishop’s blue tunic._

     _Tears began to stream from Shadowhyn’s eyes, “Ula? Wh-what have I done?” She worked quickly, examining Ulana’s wounds, checking her eyes, nose, skin; the wounds had blistered, bubbled, blackened at the edges. Ulana groaned._

     _DragonClaw’s sharp in-take of breath caused the Bishop to turn, the rumble of footsteps approaching. “They’re coming, we need to keep moving!”_

    

***

    

     Shinoa had taken a few steps before noticing the red-haired woman was no longer beside her. Looking back, she saw the human leaning against the bridge wall, eyes wide, her face completely white. She walked back, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, “Shadowhyn,” the Dark Elf said quietly, “What’s wrong?”

     The Bishop didn’t respond at first, prompting the Blade Dancer to repeat her question. She slowly recognized the Dark Elf, whispering, “I-I shouldn’t be here, I should have stayed in my room.” Shadowhyn tore her hand away from the wall, wrapping her arms around herself, “I need to go back,” she said, turning away from the Drow.

     “Wait, Shadowhyn,” Shinoa placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, holding her in place, “Why do you need to go back?”

     “ _Because!_ ” the human snapped, voice trembling, “it’s not safe! I can’t—”

     “I am here with you,” Shinoa interrupted, taking the humans’ face in her hands, looking the smaller woman in the eye, “I will not let anything happen to you.” The human looked at her, emerald eyes searching for something in the Dark Elf’s gaze. Slowly she relaxed, breathing out heavily before nodding. “Can you tell me what happened?” the Blade Dancer asked.

     The human sighed, running her hand through her hair, “I… Sometimes I get… stuck?... remembering things. I… usually hide in my room until it stops.” She looked up at Shinoa, concern plain to see on the young Drow’s face, “You will hear my story soon, I promise.”

    

***

    

     “…And over here,” the red-haired woman pointed towards a white marble and stone structure, “is Einhovant’s School of Magic.” She sighed, her mind teaming with memories. “It seems like so long ago that I was there myself, first learning to master the Sacred Arts.”

     Shinoa glanced over at Shadowhyn, “I thought you weren’t taught any Sacred Magic until you became a cleric?”

     The Bishop shook her head, glancing down at the path to avoid tripping over a tree-root. “The magisters here teach younglings weak, basic versions of both Sacred and Offensive Magic… I never understood it until later, but the whole purpose is to see what kind of magic a particular student has proficiency in, or an affinity for.”

     Shinoa nodded. “I remember Ulana telling me something like that… complaining, I think, that they were wasting her time teaching her healing spells.” Both travelers laughed.

     “That does indeed sound like Ulana… Although, I think she secretly was glad of her Sacred training once she became a Phantom Summoner…” Shadowhyn smiled, “She was always telling me ‘Don’t bother healing my Silhouette, my Servitor healing spell has more power than yours!’”

     The Dark Elf grinned, “Yes, that does indeed sound like my sister.”

     The path the two women walked curved to the right, with several hills spreading out before them. “Hail lass! Er, lass _es_ , I should say!” A familiar voice rang out, coming from beneath a great oak tree to their right. The two looked to see who called to them, before walking up the small hill to reach the tree. The terrain sloped down towards the Obelisk to the North, the hill cresting just under the oak tree’s shade. Leaning against the trunk of the tree was one familiar face, and lying in the grass staring up at the sky was another. A Dwarf raised his tankard to the Bishop and the Blade-Dancer, “Good ta’ see ye out ‘n about, lass.”

     Shadowhyn threw her arms around the Warsmith’s neck. “Thainn! It’s good to see you, kind sir dwarf.” He chuckled, and reached up with his free hand to return the hug as she kissed his rough, unshaven cheek.

     An Elf looked up towards the commotion, his blonde hair partially obscured by the tall grass where he laid. He grinned, “Shinoa, Shadow! How are you?” Shinoa stepped to the tree trunk and gave the Warsmith a short hug as the Bishop went to greet Keos.

     Kneeling in the grass above him, the red-haired woman leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’m doing… as well as I can expect, I suppose.” She smiled down at the Elf, “It is good to see you again.”

     He reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face, “It’s been awhile, that’s for sure.”

     Shadowhyn grinned, and ruffled his hair before standing. “I really hate to leave so quickly, but Shinoa and I have some talking and walking yet to do, before the sun sets.” She turned and waved to Thainn, “But, I shall spend time with you back at the Inn later, I promise.”

     “Aye lass, I’ll be lookin’ forward ta’ it, as will ev’ryone else.” He raised his tankard again as the Dark Elf and the woman headed down the hill.

     “Oh, Master Dwarf,” The Bishop called with a smile on her face, “Isn’t it a wee bit early in the day for mead?”

     The Dwarf laughed, “Nay lass, it’s never too early!”

     Shinoa laughed as the two neared the Obelisk, “Unlike Sado, Thainn can actually hold his ale.”

     Shadowhyn smiled, “Aye, well, I think I can only hold a mug or two myself.”

     “So… this is the Obelisk of Victory?” Shinoa reached out to touch the smooth white stone.

     “Yes… I forget exactly why it was put here.” Shadowhyn’s brow wrinkled as she tried to remember. “Hmmm… oh well,” she laughed, “this wasn’t our destination, anyway.” The Bishop pointed down the path to the West, “Perhaps some answers we seek lie hidden that way.”

     A scream for help startled both women.

     Steel rang against steel as the blades on her back leapt into Shinoa’s hands. Back-to-back with the Bishop, the Blade Dancer cast her gaze around, trying to locate the source of the screams. Two paths intersected at the Obelisk of Victory, the four branching off in roughly the directions of the compass. “West: clear,” The Dark Elf said, “and South: clear.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “East is clear as well.” The pathway to the East stretched all the way to the Northern Gate of the Village; not a soul walked its length. She hefted her staff, “North we go.”

     The path to the north rose as it traversed a line of hills. As they crested the hill line, Shinoa’s amber eyes quickly spotted the trouble. “Over there,” She pointed with a sword, “it looks like a youngling is in trouble.”

     Shadowhyn squinted, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. “That’s… the Blacksmith’s daughter… but I don’t see the twins.”

     As Shinoa and Shadowhyn started running down the path, Shinoa questioned, “Twins?”

     Shadowhyn nodded, grimly. “Joan never goes anywhere without Trader Jackson’s teenagers, a pair of twins. Something must have happened.”

     As Shinoa, who ran faster than the Bishop, drew close to the field, she could see the young female dwarf fighting valiantly. Joan only had on basic equipment, and a look of fear on her face, but she stood her ground. Unfortunately for the young dwarf, she had gained the attention of a pack of Werewolves.

     Shinoa dashed forward, body bent low towards the ground, blades angled behind her. A gust of wind encircled her legs, propelling her forward as it lightened her footsteps. The Dark Elf cast a glance over her shoulder, and saw Shadowhyn casting another spell to aid Shinoa. A deadly grin crept over Shinoa’s face. _I shall enjoy this!_ A cloud of blue flame wound itself around Shinoa’s head, heightening her senses as it faded from sight. Before, Shinoa could see an angry mob of Werewolves, surrounding the small dwarf. Now… she could _see_ the Werewolves’ anger as a thick roiling cloud, blinding them to their surroundings… and to the approaching danger.

     “ _JOAN!_ ” Shadowhyn’s voice rang out over the field, reaching the dwarf’s ears even over the Werewolves’ snarls and yelps. “ _Get down!_ ” The young dwarf heard the Bishop’s call and fell to her knees, covering her head with her shield. The Werewolves standing around her stopped their assault in confusion. The Werewolf Chieftain raised his mace above his head to strike.

     Looking to their leader to strike the final blow, the Werewolf Warriors missed the gray and blue blur that approached from the South. Joan clenched her teeth, knowing she couldn’t withstand another attack.

     The Werewolf Chieftain brought his mace down. A long silver blade intercepted the arc of the mace, causing it to rebound from the tempered steel. Cursing in his language, the Chieftain turned to meet this new obstacle. Another blade, a twin to the first, slid in between the Chieftain’s ribs, slicing through muscle and stopping only when the hilt touched furred skin. “Leave her alone,” a Dark Elven voice commanded. The Chieftain began to snarl a response, but was cut short when the first blade removed his head from his shoulders.

     Digging her right foot into the dirt, Shinoa carried the killing blow through a full circle; the remaining werewolves retreating a step, trying to avoid her singing blades. Rotating her wrist as she turned, the Blade Dancer slid the lifeless body from her off-hand sword, letting it fall to the ground at her feet. Brandishing both blades, the Dark Elf faced the horde of Werewolves.

     “ _Run_ , child!” the Drow hissed as Joan shivered with fear under her shield. The dwarf whimpered when a warrior lunged forward. Shinoa leapt over the young dwarf’s shield, meeting the warrior head-on. Blocking his swing with her crossed fore-arms, Shinoa crouched low and planted her shoulder in the beasts’ gut. Continuing her stride forward and lifting, Shinoa hoisted the Werewolf off the ground. Swinging her right sword-arm up over her head served to split the beast down the center. Turning around, Shinoa held her blood-drenched blade vertical to block another werewolf’s attack, while swinging her other blade low to the ground, lopping the feet off another attacking beast. Leaping high, the Dark Elf vaulted off the shoulders of a werewolf beside her, twisting and slicing the same beast as she landed. Crouching between the frightened dwarf and the remaining werewolf warriors, Shinoa readied herself.

     Joan, still hiding under her shield, was too afraid to move. “ _Y-you… uhh…_ ” Fear caught her throat. “Do not fear, little one.” The Dark Elf glanced over her shoulder at the dwarf, “I’ll take care of these.” Joan nodded, and began to stumble towards the pathway.

     Seeing how casually the Blade Dancer had slain some of their brothers, the Werewolves gathered close together, lending each other moral support. Shinoa grinned, a feral look that even the Werewolf warriors could interpret. Lunging forward, the Werewolves hoped to overtake their adversary by sheer numbers, if nothing else. Shinoa ducked her head low, swinging her arms out away from her body. Sprinting forward to meet the horde, the Dark Elf hummed a battle cadence. Twisting, Shinoa slipped between the front-most werewolves’ attacks; hilts held against her body, she drew the length of her blades through wolfen bone and muscle. Continuing her spin, Shinoa surrounded herself with a whirl-wind of steel. Reveling in the battle’s dance, Shinoa laughed. Parrying a thrust with one blade, she turned to meet the attack, slicing her other blade up the warrior’s arm and neck. Ducking under the spray of blood, Shinoa shifted her weight, using the inertia to pull her blade free of the werewolf. Twisting her right wrist, Shinoa intercepted another warrior’s mace, pushing forward to crack the same werewolf’s skull with the heavy pommel of her sword. Swinging her left arm wide, she brought the edge down on a nearby warrior’s leg, severing it mid-thigh.

     Shadowhyn ran forward to meet Joan, sweeping the dwarf up in her arms. The Bishop could see the fight raging around Shinoa; the werewolves were seriously outclassed. “Shhh…” The red-haired woman ran a hand over the trembling girl’s hair, “It’s alright now.” The poor girl clung to the woman’s tunic, sobbing as her adrenaline drained away, leaving only her fear behind. Looking over the field, Shadowhyn watched as Shinoa prepared to end the fight.

     The Blade Dancer crouched, left leg extended, right knee brought up to her chest. Flinging her sword-arms wide, Shinoa pointed one blade high in the air and angled the other low, along the ground. Surrounding the Dark Elf was a ragged, bloodied ring of Werewolf warriors. Thick red blood streamed from the Dark Elf’s swords, running down her arms and armor. Her eyes closed as she listened to the rhythm of battle; the werewolves began to advance, tightening their ring. Shinoa was unconcerned… the dance of battle had taken her, pounding through her veins. The Werewolves pounced as one, the ring tightening itself to a ball of fur and rent flesh. Shinoa swung her blades down, and around, twisting them about her body. Straightening herself, Shinoa wove from side to side, weaving ribbons of steel through the limbs and flanks of the Werewolves that stubbornly attacked. Slicing through weapons and bone alike, the Blade Dancer moved so swiftly that the werewolves could never land a blow.

     With a final lunge, Shinoa split the last warrior’s sternum through with her blades. Lifting the warrior’s body above her head, still hanging from her swords, Shinoa whispered, “ _To Shilen I send these warriors._ ” The Blade Dancer straightened her arms, sending a spray of blood across the battlefield as her swords rent the corpse in two. As the blood rained down around her, Shinoa laughed, pleased with the dark rainbow it made in the sky above her.

     Shinoa’s laughter reached the dwarf and the human, standing just outside the trampled grass the battle had left. Shadowhyn nodded, “Alright,” She knelt, sitting Joan down onto the grass in front of her, “Joan, are you hurt?”

     The young dwarf looked up at her, with tears in her eyes. “N-no, Th-Thank you, Si-sister Shadowhyn,” Joan sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek, “I was… was going to get h-help.” She shook her head, “I feel so stupid… I can’t believe I let those Werewolves spot me.”

     The Bishop smiled, smoothing the dwarf’s bright pink hair. “It happens, little one.”

     Shadowhyn started to stand, but Joan grabbed her hand, pulling the woman back to the ground. “Please! Sister Shadowhyn! Lydia needs your help!” The dwarf began to cry again.

     “Shhh… it’s alright. We’ll help all we can, Joan.” Shadowhyn comforted the young dwarf. “Where is Lydia?”

     The Dwarf pointed farther to the North-West. The path followed the downward-slope of the hill north, until it swung right and curved to follow the rising cliff edge to the left. Disappearing around a bend, the path vanished into a thick grove of trees. A run-down farmhouse was visible on the hillside to the west of the grove. “We were exploring over by the old farmhouse.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, and helped the dwarf up, holding her close for a moment. Striding through the battle field, the Bishop walked over to the Blade Dancer, “Shin, you ok?”

     Shinoa, still smiling, was checking herself over. Once satisfied, the Dark Elf nodded. She wiped the gore from her face, “Yes, I am fine.”

     “That’s good to hear,” Shadowhyn pointed towards the farmhouse, “We need to head that way. The twins are still in trouble, and…” Shadowhyn looked over Shinoa’s messy, dripping armor and laughed, “There’s a well there where you can clean up.”

     Shinoa had that feral grin on her face, “I did make a mess of myself.” Kneeling, the Dark Elf plunged her bloodied blades deep into the earth. Pulling them free, having wiped them clean, Shinoa slid them back into their sheaths. “Let’s go then. Those children are waiting.”

    

*******

    

     The three females running through the tall grass would have caused any other passers-by to take a second look. In the lead, a blood and gore drenched Dark Elf ran point, dispatching any wandering tribal-Orcs and Werewolves that drew too close to the party. Trailing behind was a young Dwarf, bruised and battered herself, holding the hand of an unscathed Human.

     Leaving the grassy plain behind, the three approached the rolling foothills of the Northern Range of the Island. Few farmhouses were built this far out, and fewer still were occupied. In recent years, a surge in the number of wild beasts made living this far out from the guarded walls of Talking Island Village a dangerous exercise indeed. Joan explained to the Bishop and the Blade Dancer how she and the Jackson twins had gone to explore the abandoned farmhouses, as most younglings on the Island do. Shadowhyn remembered doing similar things when she was growing up on the Island.

     “We had made our way over the ridge,” Joan pointed through a thick line of trees, “when one of the spiders caught sight of us.” The young Dwarf shook her head. “Lydia didn’t see it coming, and it knocked her over and bit her leg before she could even react.”

     Shadowhyn’s face wrinkled in worry. “Was it one of the Blade Spiders?”

     Joan nodded. “It poisoned her pretty bad, Sister… her leg wouldn’t stop bleeding, no matter how many bandages we wrapped it with.”

     Up ahead, Shinoa cried a warning. “Shadow, I think I see them!”

     The run-down farmhouse stood at the base of the foothills, surrounded by trees. To the south-west stood one of the many Standing Stones scattered across the island. A circle of 20-foot high carven stones, every other massive block capped by another slab, created the appearance of a ring of doorways. A spider’s nest was visible in the center of the Stones. Close to the farmhouse were the corpses of several spiders, with several more living spiders swarming about.

     “Looks like… Three on the roof, and the two at the front windows.” Shinoa squinted, her eyes far better at the distance than either of her companions. “Looks like they’re trying to get inside.”

     Joan gasped in horror, “Lys and Lydia are in the farmhouse!” The three resumed their run to the building, quickening their pace. “I left them in the house; Lysander thought since I was smaller than them, I could slip by the spiders and get to town for help.” Joan bit her lip in worry, “I hope they’re still alright.”

     Shadowhyn smiled, “They’ll be fine, Joan. We’ll do whatever we can.”

     The young girl smiled, fear still hiding in her eyes. “Thank you, Sister. And thank you, Miss Shinoa.”

     Shinoa waved and looked over her shoulder at the two. “No ‘Miss’, Joan. Just call me Shinoa… or Shin, if you want.”

     Nearing the farmhouse, the three could hear the old wood splintering and the glass windows breaking under the spider’s assault. “They’re almost inside!” Shinoa called.

     “I’ll take the two at the window,” Shadowhyn said, “I still know some basic Offensive magic.”

     Shinoa nodded, “I’ll draw the ones off the roof, Joan,” the Dark Elf looked back at the Dwarf, “You get inside, try to see how the twins are.” The girl nodded, hefting her cudgel and pulling her shield from her back.

     The two spiders at the front window had broken through most of the glass, but something inside the building was keeping them from entering. Shadowhyn thought she could hear Lysander fending them off. The Bishop began chanting an incantation, her eyes closed, arms held above her head. The air around the woman began to twist and curl, as the wind was drawn into a vortex between her hands. Opening her eyes and shouting the last phrase, Shadowhyn gestured towards the closest spider. The roaring ball of wind launched itself towards the farmhouse.

     Shinoa ran up the hillside, slipping her swords from their scabbards. A pocket of wind seared the air to her right, blowing the grass in all directions, and whipping her hair around her face. Striking the right-most spider square in the back, the Wind Strike crushed its carapace, slamming the body against the old farmhouse. With a dull crunch, the wooden wall gave way, the force of the arachnid’s impact tearing a hole in the side of the building. The other spider turned and leapt into the farmhouse, scurrying through the entrance its kin had made. Screams filtered through the gash in the farmhouse wall.

     “ ** _NO!_** ” The Bishop screamed, running for the farmhouse.

     “ _Lys! Lydia!_ ” The blacksmith’s daughter’s voice was met with silence, a deafening absence of noise that worried the Dwarf. The Bishop stared in horror at the gaping hole in the farmhouse wall, the blood draining from her face in fright. The Dark Elf swore an oath in her native tongue and dashed towards the half-broken window. Crossing her gauntleted fists over her face, Shinoa leapt through the window, shattering the remaining glass and disappearing into the darkness within.

     The Blade Spiders on the roof ended their assault, attracted to the yells coming from the farmhouses’ front lawn. Swarming over the front awning, a single arachnid launched itself at Shadowhyn, its hooked claws outstretched. The Bishop stood her ground; speaking quickly, she rattled off an incantation, weaving her fingers through the proper motions. A sudden swell of water, instantly frozen, consumed the spider’s body in mid-air. Shadowhyn ducked to the side, the spider sailing past and shattering as it hit the hill-side behind her.

     A new disturbance could be heard from within the farmhouse; great crashes and bangs resounded, punctuated by screams. Joan, escaping the Blade Spider’s notice, slipped into the farmhouse. Shadowhyn started up the slope after the young dwarf, but her advance was cut off when the remaining Blade Spiders skittered down the front of the house toward her. Once again, the woman began to summon a gust of wind. Before she could finish her incantation, the lead arachnid pounced, knocking her off her feet. Shadowhyn fell backward, dropping her staff, the Spider stabbing down with its barbs. Twisting her legs to avoid the attacks, the Bishop finished her chant and thrust her arms forward. The sudden vortex of air punctured the insect’s thorax, flinging its lifeless shell off the woman.

     Scrambling to her feet, Shadowhyn looked frantically for her staff. All mages, regardless of which Domain they drew their power, needed the focal point of a staff or book to realize their true strength in their Art. As a Bishop, Shadowhyn knew ways to calm an enemy, removing their bloodthirst, or to put them to sleep… but without her staff, she was uncertain whether her spell would take effect. The last Blade Spider was too quick for her, springing forward onto the Bishop’s back. Rolling onto her back, Shadowhyn cried out in pain as the arachnid slashed her shoulder with its fore-claws. The Spider pushed forward, trampling over the woman, stabbing and biting as it rolled her across the lawn.

     The Blade Spider reared up on its hind legs, standing tall over the battered Bishop. Shadowhyn pulled her legs close to her chest, and held her arms out, trying to catch the spider’s claws before they could strike.

     With a groan, the front of the farmhouse collapsed, shuddering as a tremendous impact shattered the remaining wooden planks.

    

*******

    

     Shinoa ran up the hillside, slipping her swords from their scabbards. A pocket of wind seared the air to her right, blowing the grass in all directions, and whipping her hair around her face. Striking the right-most spider square in the back, the Wind Strike crushed its carapace, slamming the body against the old farmhouse. With a dull crunch, the wooden wall gave way, the force of the insect’s impact tearing a hole in the side of the building. The other spider turned and leapt into the farmhouse, scurrying through the entrance its kin had made. Screams filtered through the gash in the farmhouse wall.

     The Dark Elf hadn’t anticipated the building being so weakened by the elements; and neither had the Bishop. “ ** _NO!_** ” Shadowhyn screamed, far too distant from the house to adjust her tactics. Shinoa gauged her distance from the farmhouses’ front window, and knew it to be within reach. Cursing briefly, the Blade Dancer covered her face with her hands and leapt for the window.

     The arachnids attacking the farmhouse had only broken a small section of the window. As a result, there were plenty of glass shards flying into the building along with Shinoa. Almost immediately, Shinoa’s eyes adjusted to the darkness; taking in the scene before her, she knew she had to act quickly.

     Shinoa stood in the main living room of the old farmhouse, a fireplace to her left, with what looked to be the kitchen area behind her. The lifeless spider that had broken through the wall had slid across the floor into the near left corner, pinning Lydia’s body beneath it. Just as well, Shinoa supposed, as it kept her hidden from the other insect. Lysander was not so lucky; intent on lifting the carcass from his sister, the remaining arachnid had caught him by surprise. Slipping her swords back into their sheaths, Shinoa sprinted forward, leaping over an overturned couch.

     Shinoa landed lightly, and sprang forward, hands outstretched. Grabbing a hold of the Blade Spider’s mid-legs, Shinoa twisted in the air above it, wrapping her legs around the narrow of its thorax. Throwing her weight to the right, preserving her inertia, Shinoa flipped the insect off its feet. Gritting her teeth, the Dark Elf anticipated a painful impact.

     Both Blade Dancer and Blade Spider were locked together, rolling side over side across the length of the living area. The young Dwarf ran through the gash in the side of the building as the two combatants rumbled past the opening. She gaped in shock at Shinoa, freezing in place. “ _Check— your— friends!_ ” The Dark Elf managed to spit out the words, the air being knocked from her body as the spider leapt into the ceiling, slamming her between its body and the beams above. Holding her body low against the insect, Shinoa stretched her left arm forward, grabbing the spider by its mandibles. Reaching to her leg-sheath, she drew her knife with her right hand, and stabbed it into the arachnid’s side.

     The spider jumped, in pain, and ran forward trying to distance itself from its attacker. Shinoa yanked its head to the left, leading the insect around the room and straight towards the still-standing wall on the opposite side of the window. Shinoa ducked her head as well as she could, bracing herself for impact.

     Striking the wall at a full run, the spider managed to tear a new hole in the building. Already weakened from losing its glass, the window collapsed, bringing part of the roof down with it. Shinoa glanced up to see another Blade Spider ready to strike Shadowhyn. “ _Hya!_ ” Shinoa twisted her knife, getting another jump from the battered Spider. “Shadowhyn, look out!”

     Shadowhyn, already half curled into a ball, saw Shinoa tear through the farmhouse wall, clinging to the Blade Spider’s back. Throwing her arms down, the Bishop flung her legs over her head, rolling away from the arachnid above her. The Blade Spider struck, still managing to put a gash in the Bishop’s leg. The Spider Shinoa rode rammed into the other, snapping its legs where it hit, and throwing both insects down the hill. Just before impact Shinoa pushed off the Spider, and trailed through the air after the two arachnids. Pulling her swords from her back, Shinoa landed on the spiders as they lay in a heap at the bottom of the hill. Using her weight, and the speed of her fall, Shinoa drove both blades through the upper-most spider and deep into the one trapped beneath it.

     Shadowhyn, trembling from the adrenaline, and bleeding from her shoulder and leg, tried to stand. Falling to her hands and knees, the Bishop coughed as she struggled to breathe calmly. Shinoa stood, pulling her swords from the spider pile, and made her way up the hill. The young dwarf and the human twins appeared in the semi-collapsed hole torn in the farmhouse wall. Joan and Lysander carried Lydia, who had turned a sickening shade of green, still bleeding from beneath her bandaged spider-bite. Joan gasped when she saw the Bishop’s wounds. “Sister Shadowhyn!” The Dwarf and the boy gently laid the wounded girl on the grass as Shinoa reached Shadowhyn’s side.

     “Shadowhyn, are you… Sister, can you hear me?” Shinoa placed a hand gently on the woman’s shoulder. Shadowhyn sat on her knees, staring at her hands as they trembled. They were slick with blood, most of it her own. The Bishop’s eyes widened, staring off into a memory.

     “ _No..._ ” the Bishop whispered, “ _stay… with me…_ ” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

    

***

    

     _“I’ve got you, Sister, it’ll be alright.” Shadowhyn mumbled, more to herself than to the Summoner. She held one arm around Ulana, supporting the Dark Elf’s weight, helping her to keep moving. Ulana breathed heavily, wheezing and coughing with every breath. Something was wrong, but none of the women knew what it was._

     _DragonClaw turned, and motioned for the two to follow her. “It’s clear; I think we’ve found a place to rest.” The three entered a large room, ornately carved and gilded stone covered the walls and ceiling. The rumble off in the distance grew steadily louder. “Shadaera, help me block this doorway,” the Paladin grunted as she tried to push a heavy stone altar across the opening in the wall, “Hurry! We haven’t much time!”_

     _The Bishop gently lowered Ulana to the floor, and stared in horror. Just squeezing the Dark Elf’s side and arm to help carry her had broken blood vessels, causing the Drow’s blood to ooze through her skin. Shadowhyn sat on her knees, staring at her hands, slick with blood. Panicking, the red-haired woman shook Ulana by the shoulders, the Dark Elf’s eyes rolling around, vacant. “No, no, no…” the Bishop whimpered, “Stay with me Ula, do you hear me?” Ulana gave a mumbled groan in return. “_ Stay with me! _” Shadowhyn sobbed, a sinking feeling in her chest._

     _“_ Shadowhyn! _I need your help!” The Guild Leader’s voice cut through to the Bishop. The crying woman rose, and ran to the entrance to help the Paladin with the blockade._

    

***

    

     The Bishop’s behavior startled Shinoa. Grabbing the trembling woman by the shoulders, Shinoa held her from falling over. “Shadowhyn!” The Dark Elf cried, shaking the woman, “Shadow! Can you hear me?”

     The wide-eyed woman’s glassy stare slowly focused on Shinoa’s face. “ _U-Ula?”_ Even Shinoa’s ears could barely hear the woman’s whispers.

     Shinoa shook her head, “No Sister, it’s me… Shinoa.”

     Shadowhyn’s eyes drifted back down to her hands, still stained with blood. “I-I didn’t— She just started—” Tears began welling up in the woman’s eyes, “I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop the bleeding… I didn’t do it on purpose!” the Bishop buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. “I- I- _I couldn’t help her!_ ” Shadowhyn grabbed large handfuls of her hair, squeezing her head with her arms, her voice a wordless keening wail.

     “Shad? Shad. _Shadowhyn!_ ” Shinoa struggled with the woman, trying to pull her arms from her face, “We need you— Lydia needs your help!”

     The Bishop shook her head, the blood on her hands staining her hair a darker, duller red, “ _No!_ No, no, no—” Shinoa grabbed the smaller woman by the shoulders, “I ca—I _can’t!_ Not again!” Shadowhyn struggled in the Dark Elf’s grip, eyes still wide with fear. “Not—not again! Ula no! no… not again!” The woman stopped struggling and went limp, repeating herself in a daze.

     Joan and Lysander looked at Shinoa, worry and fear on both their faces. “Is… is Sister Shadowhyn… alright?” the young dwarf’s voice was hushed.

     Lysander’s face was pale, keeping pressure on his sister’s bandages, watching as both his sister and the Bishop continued to bleed from their wounds. “I think she needs help as well.” He pointed to Shadowhyn’s wounded leg, “That’s bleeding pretty fast.”

     Shinoa pulled the woman close, getting a look at her shoulder. “Joan, can you bandage this? I’m going to try to snap her out of…” The Dark Elf frowned, “I’ll do what I can.”

     The Dark Elf held the dazed woman at arms’ length, “Shadowhyn!” She snapped, “Look at me!” The Bishop’s eyes slowly drifted to the Dark Elf’s face. “Shadowhyn, Lydia needs your help.” The bloodied woman began to squirm in Shinoa’s grip again. “Forgive me, Sister.” Shinoa slapped the Bishop, the force of it twisting the frail woman’s head.

     Joan, trying to bandage the Bishop’s bleeding shoulder, jumped at the sound.

     Shadowhyn gasped, her eyes wide and focused on Shinoa. “Why—”

     The Dark Elf cut her short, “Lydia needs your help, _Bishop_.” Shinoa spat the last word, hoping it would help.

     “But I can’t—I—” Shinoa slapped the woman again. Shadowhyn’s eyes trembled as she held her hand up to her cheek, “Wh—”

     “ _Pull yourself together!_ ” Shinoa’s eyes blazed, “This girl needs you,” the Dark Elf thrust a finger at Lydia, lying still on the ground, her breathing shallow. Shinoa rested her hands on Shadowhyn’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “And I know you _can_ help.” Shinoa held the frightened woman’s face in her hands, “I _believe_ in you.”

     The Bishop nervously chewed on her lower lip, still trembling. “I—I don’t… She—She’s been poisoned!” Her eyes seeing clearly once again, the sight of the near-dead girl before her snapped the woman back to the present. Crawling towards Lydia, Shadowhyn didn’t hear Joan begin to sputter at the Bishop; moving so abruptly had caused the bandage on her shoulder to come undone. Shadowhyn cradled Lydia’s head in her lap, and held her hands above the girls’ face, palms together.

     Closing her eyes, the Bishop began her incantation. Light trailed from her fingertips, her hands still shaking as her fingers moved, weaving the Pattern of Vitality in the air above the injured girl’s chest. Shadowhyn thrust her hands down on Lydia’s chest, a Sacred Construct, a glowing dull yellow circle, flared into being, consuming the girl’s body from head to toe. The Pattern of Vitality began to unravel itself, still hanging in the air above the girl as the symbols within the Sacred Construct shifted and turned. Shadowhyn leaned forward, hands gently holding Lydia’s face, placing a kiss on the girls’ forehead. “Forgive my lack of faith, child,” The Bishop whispered.

     The Pattern of Vitality unwound and shattered, casting brilliant rays of light from where it floated. The Sacred Construct flamed a red bright enough to match the sun, then faded from sight.

    

*****


	5. Chapter 5

     

     

     Almost an hour had passed since the Blade Dancer and the Bishop had walked the young adults back to the Obelisk of Victory. Shadowhyn and Shinoa had stood and watched the East Road until the three made it safely back to the Village. Shadowhyn stretched, gingerly, and motioned for Shinoa to follow. Lydia had responded almost immediately to the Pattern of Vitality; the spell purged her body of Blade Spider venom and knitted the flesh around her wounds. The Bishop had also tended to Joan and Lysander, fussing over even the smallest scratch until it had faded from sight; in contrast, Shadowhyn had all but ignored her own wounds. Shinoa had kept an eye on Shadowhyn as she cared for the younglings… the woman had been shaken, that much was certain.

     Before heading to the Crossroads, the party had paused at the well to cleanse themselves. Shinoa had taken the longest, but then, she had gotten the messiest. Werewolf’s blood still clotted on her armor, some of it requiring a bit of time to rub off. The Dark Elf had spent the most time cleaning her _shoufa_ , the delicate black veil that she wore around her neck, mostly hidden within her armor. At Joan’s questioning look, Shinoa had simply said, “ _Drow wear a shoufa to honor those they are about to kill.”_

     The wind blew from the north, pushing gentle waves through the tall grass of the field. The Obelisk cast a long shadow from the East in the late afternoon sun as Shadowhyn sat on a rock, basking in the sunlight. Shinoa was stretched out on the grass before the rock, staring up at the sky. Immediately to the west stood the ruins of Shadowhyn’s childhood; the Bishop had called for lunch before letting Shinoa investigate the crumbling homestead.

     The hard cheese and smoked meat were quite delicious, a credit to Dadrabian’s skill in the kitchen. Shinoa was surprised that such a satisfactory meal could be found out here, on Talking Island. Shadowhyn had eaten mostly in silence, favoring her jaw as she chewed. Shinoa had started to apologize again for striking the woman, but the Bishop had silenced the Dark Elf by placing her hand on Shinoa’s knee. “ _No need to apologize,_ ” Shadowhyn had shaken her head. “ _I placed you in an awkward position… without you, Lydia may not have survived._ ”

     “Have you ever…” Shadowhyn spoke, causing Shinoa to jump a little. The Dark Elf hadn’t been expecting conversation. “…Lost your faith?” Shinoa tilted her head, looking up at the Bishop. Her skin, a good shade whiter than it had been that morning— _Probably from loss of blood_ , Shinoa presumed—glowed a little in the sunlight, her hair a sparkling shimmer of red, blowing in the wind. “Well…” the woman faltered a little, “I guess… lost faith in _yourself_ , would be a better way of putting it.” Shinoa continued to gaze up at the Bishop, staying silent as the woman struggled to put her thoughts to voice.

     “When I lost Ulana… When she died, there was nothing I could do.” A single tear ran down her face, but the Dark Elf could hear the tremor in the Bishop’s voice, “There I was… a _Bishop_ , and I couldn’t help her.” Shadowhyn closed her eyes, shaking her head. “All I’d studied, all my life’s experience… and I couldn’t keep your sister’s Flame burning.” The woman wrung her hands, rubbing at something invisible on her palms, “I was _worthless_.” Shadowhyn choked back a bitter laugh, “Until that day, my presence alone could change the flow of battle, lend strength to my allies… After that day?” She sighed, her breathing shaky as she held back her tears, “I _couldn’t_ trust myself.” She stared hard at her hands, still shaking and rubbing, “If my own benevolent Art could be subverted so… so cruelly… so _completely_ …” Shadowhyn grimaced, chewing on her lip as her eyes filled with tears.

     Shinoa, unsure of how to respond, placed her hand on the Bishop’s hands, and squeezed them gently. Shadowhyn wiped a tear from her eye, and squeezed Shinoa’s hand in return. “Now go, young one. You need to investigate the homestead.”

     Shinoa propped herself up on her elbow, “You’re staying here?”

     The Bishop nodded, “I feel… weak. I need to rest. And I believe I’ve already seen what it would have shown me.”

     Shinoa raised an eyebrow, “Alright, Sister. You stay here and rest. I shall return.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Tell me what you see when you return, and I shall keep my promise to you.”

     Shinoa stood, brushed loose leaves and blades of grass from her armor joints, and strode towards the crumbling foundation. Standing in the center of the ruined homestead, Shinoa could guess what size it would have been. _A most comfortable home_ , she thought to herself, looking around her feet. The foundation was all that remained, the wooden floorboards long since rotted away in the elements. Not much remained of the walls, but perhaps pieces of stone or wood standing ankle-high. All was a muddy gray, as if blackened by fire and later washed by rain. _But what significance does this hold?_

     A chill ran through Shinoa’s stomach, and a breath seemed to puff gently on the back of her neck. Turning in fright, the Blade Dancer spun low and away from where she had been standing, one hand to her swords and the other providing balance as she crouched. Nothing. Frowning and shaking her head, Shinoa straightened herself. Looking to the west, she could see the path curve to the left, its length hidden behind a row of trees and hillocks as it ended at the doorway to the Elven Library.

     “Shinoa come quickly! Your sister!”

     Shinoa turned, eyes wide. “ _Brother?_ ”

     She was standing in her room, her childhood room, in the house that she shared with her brother and sister. _This isn’t right_ , she rubbed at her eyes, _this house was burned down the day Dhub was interred._ Her brother appeared in the doorway, “Shinoa!” He cursed her lack of speed, “Your sister is home!”

     Shinoa bounded out of her room and down the curving hallway steps. Rounding the end of the hallway, and on into the front room, she slid to a halt, gasping at what she saw. Tetrearch Thiefiell crouched over a body on the floor, a few steps in from the entrance to the house. The rumble of thunder shook the house, drowning out the incantation the village leader spoke. He was muttering some healing spell Shinoa could not recognize.

     Her sister’s body drew her eye. “Ulana?” she whispered, catching sight of a massive circular burn that crossed her back, rising and falling slowly with her breathing. “Ulana!” Shinoa screamed as she ran forward. Her brother, having followed her down from her room, held her back even as she struggled in vain to see her sister.

     “Silence child, screaming will not help her! Close the door, make yourself useful!” Thiefiell yelled over the pulsing green aura that spilled from his hands. The room shook, a violent red flash of light blinding Shinoa. As the glow subsided, Thiefiell inspected the Seal he placed on the young wizard, before standing, his hands burnt and bleeding. He motioned at Shinoa, waving toward Ulana, “Put her to bed, she should be fine now... I hope.”

     The glowing red burn had faded, the skin of her back knit back together, leaving pale white markings against the gray of her skin. Shinoa sat back on her knees, and watched as her brother carried Ulana upstairs.

     “Such an unnatural aura.” Tetrearch Thiefiell squeezed his hands into tight fists, then released. Fresh blood ceased to flow from the symbols etched on his hands, but some still spattered to the floor as he moved. He held a hand out to Shinoa. Grasping it, she stood, face to face with the Village Elder. “Could you sense it too, child?”

     Shinoa nodded. “What was that marking on her back, Tetrearch?”

     He shook his head, “I know not, young one. And if I did, I might not tell you its whole truth… but know this,” he paused, as if searching for some scrap of memory, “It is not _Nature’s way._ ”

     Shinoa’s forehead wrinkled as she contemplated this information. “Tetrearch… might you know that marking’s origin, at least?”

     He sighed heavily, and folded his arms over his chest. “It is of Human origin, young one. A most ancient, forbidden teaching given to us before we were known as ‘Dark’ Elves.” He shook his head, “I can tell you no more of this.”

     Shinoa held out her hand, almost – but not quite – touching the Elder. “Tetrearch, wait… Was it… Was it of the Death Domain?”

     The old Dark Elf closed his eyes, “It is not the way of things for our people to grow so intimate with Death. Shilen guides us, Shilen keeps us, and Shilen takes us. It is not our place to stray from the Order set before us.” He held his hands out, and gently placed them on her shoulders. “You have grown well, young one, and I see in you your Mother’s spirit. Safe travels to you, Shinoa Elvirane.”

     Shinoa’s vision wavered, the sights and sounds melting away from around her. Rubbing her eyes again, she found herself standing in the ruined homestead, Shadowhyn still sitting on the rock to the East, staring at a sun that had sunk lower in the sky.

     Shadowhyn let the early evening sun warm her skin, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the breeze and the light reddish glow the clouds spread across the sky. A presence in front of her briefly blocked the sunlight, and Shadowhyn opened her eyes to see Shinoa sitting cross legged on the ground in front of the rock where she sat. The woman shifted on the rock, drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The evening breeze was wonderful, but it cut rather sharply across her bandaged shoulder. Shinoa sat, staring at the woman on the rock, her eyes wide as she contemplated her vision.

     “What did you see, Shinoa?” The Bishop’s question drew the Dark Elf’s attention to the present.

     “I saw… my sister.” The Blade Dancer relayed her vision to Shadowhyn, making special note of her conversation with Tetrearch Thiefiell. “When Ulana returned from the School of the Dark Arts, I did not speak with the Tetrearch.” Shinoa wondered, “Why would he talk to me now?”

     Shadowhyn nodded, a grim look on her face, her mouth set in a hard line. “There are things I need to tell you, young one, things which may seem nonsense until later.” Shadowhyn looked to Shinoa, who gazed back up at the woman. “My parents were killed here. I believe the Dark Magicks used cause those who have been similarly touched to resonate.”

     Shinoa blinked, and raised an eyebrow, “Are you saying that I’ve been tainted by evil?”

     Shadowhyn shook her head, “All who wander Aden are touched by evil, at some point. It is our choices _after_ that touch that determines if the evil will fester within, or if it will be a focus for our efforts.” Shadowhyn looked down at her hands, then back to the Dark Elf, “Hear me child, and understand my words. This is a specific Dark Magick; which is why it resonates clearly to you and I. Ulana was _tainted_ by this evil… yet she was _not_ evil.”

     Shadowhyn saw the fire blaze in Shinoa’s eyes, and settle down just as swiftly. “I… I do understand, Sister,” the Dark Elf responded.

     “You mentioned the Tetrearch saying that the symbol on Ulana’s back was a forbidden teaching the Dark Elves had learned, before they were known as Dark Elves?” Shinoa nodded at Shadowhyn’s question. “It must have been Dasparion.” At Shinoa’s confused face, Shadowhyn continued. “Remember your own history, Shinoa. A Human magician came to the Brown Elves, offering them Black Magic in exchange for the secret to immortality.”

     Shinoa nodded slowly, “You think the Black Magic that Dasparion taught the Brown Elves was… Necromancy?”

     The Bishop shrugged. “It is possible. Necromancy is the Darkest of the Black Magicks.” She shook her head, slowly. “It could be that a Dark Elf old enough to have been taught by Dasparion still lives.”

     Shinoa looked cross, “But what would he want from Ulana? That still doesn’t explain anything!”

     Shadowhyn, surprised by the outburst, pondered that question. “You said that Ulana was returning from her Trials to become a Wizard?” Shinoa nodded. “Perhaps he saw a suitable apprentice in your sister. She was a talented mystic.” Shadowhyn rubbed her forehead, “That would explain the symbol on her back…”

     “What do you mean?”

     Shadowhyn stretched a bit, and rubbed her bandaged leg. “You know that the Dark Elves’ natural Domain of power is Wind.” Shadowhyn saw Shinoa’s reaction to the word _natural_.

     “ _It is not Nature’s way_ ,” Shinoa whispered, “That’s what the Tetrearch said to me, twice even.”

     Shadowhyn paused, repeating the phrase to herself. “Nature’s way, eh? What if the Ancient Drow were attempting to shift Ulana’s natural alignment to the Death Domain through a ritual of some kind?” Shinoa frowned, a bit unsure of the suggestion. “Think of it, Shinoa. The only feasible way to shift a mystic’s alignment would be during their Trials, for one, as they’re naturally shifting Artistries as it is… but any such ritual would leave a mark on the subject—”

     Shinoa gasped, “Ulana’s back!”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “I always thought it was artwork of some kind, but now I suspect it was a Construct of some kind.”

     Shinoa leapt to her feet, “Then the Ancient One is in the School of the Dark Arts!” She began checking her armor, “We’ll need to leave immediately! If we can still catch him there—”

     Shadowhyn raised a hand, stopping the Dark Elf in mid-sentence. “He is no longer at the School.” The Bishop sighed, “Have a seat, Shinoa. You told me of your vision, and we’ve pieced together some more clues… and now it is time for me to keep my promise to you.” Shinoa sat, staring intently at the frail woman. Shadowhyn was silent for a minute before speaking quietly, “I shall tell you all I remember of the night your sister died.”


	6. II. Exploration

 

 

 **Exploration** _n._ : The act of exploring; examination; as, the exploration of (the) unknown.

    

     _Today I received a letter from the High Priest in Giran. Apparently, there is something of importance happening in the Dark Elven territory, and I am being dispatched to investigate. Nothing clear has been told to me about the situation, but I’ve heard rumors throughout Giran’s market streets of an increased Undead presence in the School of the Dark Arts. No rumors have contained any clues to the reasons for a sudden swell of the Undead population of the School… only that stronger and fiercer Undead have been appearing deep within the catacombs._

     _For whatever reason, I’ve been chosen to bring word from Giran to the Tetrearch of our willingness to help, and to investigate the School’s depths. I imagine they want a Bishop to seek the cause, and to see if anything can be done to help the poor souls that have left their graves. Many times, I’ve been called upon to perform a similar service; the Execution Grounds and Dragon Valley have received numerous blessings, and yet continue to reject the souls laid to rest there._

     _Not that I mind performing the duties of my Office. Einhasad’s will is for the dead to rest in peace. I’ve just never ventured into the School before… I shall have to speak with Ulana today._

     Shadowhyn put her charcoal stick in the center of her journal, enclosing it within the book. _Won’t lose_ this _one_ , she thought, wrapping the leather strap around her notebook and tying it tight. She stood, looking out the window; the late-morning sun glistened off every surface, inviting her to bask in its warmth. She had to leave. A few more places to check before she met Ulana for the journey North. She put her journal in her bag, threw its strap over her head, and dashed out the door.

     Sunlight sparkled off the cobblestone pavement, the stones worn smooth from innumerable generations of travelers. The sun, high in the sky as noon approached, cast warmth over Giran’s Castle Town. The weather was cool, as a delightful breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the city street. Vendors’ carts lined the street, the shopkeepers hawking their wares to the passing crowd.

     Shadowhyn perused the shops, stopping and glancing at fine fabrics and shiny baubles that caught her eye. Shaking her head to the vendors whose products ceased to interest her, the Bishop smiled and continued through the market. Stopping at a peddler’s wagon bearing books, the woman glanced over the volumes. With a cry of delight, she pulled a blackened, leather-burnt tome from a pile. Slipping the peddler a handful of coins, Shadowhyn grinned as she secured the heavy book in her satchel. Shading her eyes from the sun, the woman strolled through the crowded street, weaving in and out of the passersby. Waving to familiar faces, and stopping briefly to talk to some, the red-haired woman kept a keen eye out for her Guild Sisters.

     Stopping in the shade of a poplar, Shadowhyn stepped back from the crowd to get her bearings. _There’s the White Stag Inn_ , she glanced towards the signs hanging from the buildings, _and there’s the Wild Boar Tavern_. Taking a faded cloth map from her satchel, the woman traced a finger down the red lines depicting the Castle Town’s streets. Smiling and tapping a finger on her map, the Bishop rolled it tightly and placed it back in her shoulder bag. Standing on her toes to look over the crowd, Shadowhyn glanced both ways before pushing her way through.

     Ducking under a large Orc’s sword, Shadowhyn darted through an opening in the wall of people, finding herself in a shadowed alley. Striding through the damp passageway, and slipping past stacks of barrels and wooden boxes, the woman made a right at the next corner, rounding the back of a solid stone building. Poking her head out of the alley, Shadowhyn squinted as she eyed the building’s sign. _That’s the one!_ She grinned, sliding through the alley’s mostly-blocked opening.

     Stepping quietly to the doorway of the Magisters’ Shop, the red-haired woman peered around the heavy oak door that was standing open. Spying her prey, a wolfish grin pulled at the Bishop’s lips. Slipping through the door as silently as possible, the woman stepped softly to a bookshelf heavy-laden with thick, leather-bound volumes. Reading the titles of the books softly, while running a finger over the faded leather spines, an elegantly dressed Dark Elf was unaware of the impending danger. Shadowhyn pounced.

     Throwing her hands around the Dark Elf’s face, her voice bright, Shadowhyn laughed, “Find what you’re looking for, Ulana Elvirane?”

     Startled, the Dark Elf froze before laughing. “No thanks to you, Shadowhyn Fenrir!” Turning, the Dark Elf embraced the Bishop, “Good to see you, Shadow.”

     “Aye Sister, ‘tis good to see you too.”

     Adjusting the shoulder strap of her bag, the Bishop glanced up at the bookshelf. “I thought I’d find you here,” she ran a finger across a finely crafted shelf. “I know that you prefer their selection.” Eying the Dark Elf next to her, Shadowhyn smiled, “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

     Ulana sighed, a bit cross. “You _know_ which one I’m looking for. _No one_ has it.” Folding her arms with a bitter laugh, the Summoner shook her head. “Not enough Phantom Summoners around to bother with it, I suppose.”

     The red-haired human smiled, a gleam in her eye. “Well, let’s get some lunch then. I have some questions for you.” Shadowhyn patted her shoulder bag, “And a surprise.”

     Ulana raised an eyebrow, “A surprise? You know I hate surprises.”

     Shadowhyn laughed, the light melody filling the Magister’s Shop. “You just hate _my_ surprises, admit it!” Grasping the Dark Elf by the hand, the Bishop pulled her Guild Sister out into the afternoon sun. Throwing a hand up to block the sunlight, Shadowhyn hopped a little as she looked up and down the busy cobblestone street. Pointing, she tugged at Ulana’s arm. “There! We’ll eat at the Blackened Hearth!” Ignoring the Summoner’s protests, the Bishop pulled her captive towards the Inn.

     The interior of the Blackened Hearth Inn lived up to its name, the bright sunlight not making much headway into the building. The common room was large, almost stretching the length and breadth of the building itself. A large cast-iron fireplace, the Inn’s namesake no doubt, roared with a lively fire on the far side of the room. Swinging double doors on the far right led to the kitchen, as human, elf, and dark elven barmaids brought pitchers of beer and plates of food to the customers scattered among the sturdy oak tables. Ulana’s amber eyes gathered what light was available, glowing a faint yellow in the dimness. Shadowhyn blinked, trying to quicken her eyes’ adjustment to the dark. She could sense rather than see Ulana’s smirk. The Bishop growled softly, “Find a table already.”

     Ulana laughed, rather enjoying Shadowhyn’s frustration. “Here’s one, Sister.” Tugging at the woman’s elbow, Ulana stepped over to a round oak table, three empty chairs pushed against it. Shadowhyn rubbed her eyes as she sat, dropping her satchel on the floor beside her chair, smiling as her sight slowly returned.

     Leaning forward on the table, her elbows propping her up, Shadowhyn smiled sweetly at Ulana. “Now,” She said with a grin, “What do you want first? The—”

     Ulana threw up her hands, “Let’s get the surprise over with!”

     Grinning uncontrollably, Shadowhyn plunged a hand into her shoulder bag. “Close your eyes.” The Bishop commanded.

     “Oh, I’ll get you for this, wench.” Ulana muttered, doing as she was told.

     The Bishop pulled the battered leather-bound tome from her bag and slid it across the table. “Alright, open them!”

     The Dark Elf peeked with one eye, gasped, then stared with both eyes wide. “Where did you find this?” Ulana picked up the volume gently, running a hand over its cover. “ _Soulless…_ ” she whispered softly, to herself.

     Shadowhyn tried to don a secretive expression, “Oh, I have my ways…”

     Ulana stifled a laugh. “You got lucky, didn’t you?”

     The Bishop fidgeted, “Well, when you put it _that_ way—”

     The Dark Elf placed a hand on the human’s arm, “Thank you, Sister.” Shadowhyn smiled, her eyes dancing.

     “What else did you have to ask me?” Ulana set the book in her lap, folding her hands over it.

     “Oh yes!” Shadowhyn bent down and began rifling through her bag, “There’s something I have to show you.”

     A lightly tanned Elf stepped up to the table, catching the Bishop by surprise. Half-bent under the table, digging through her shoulder bag, Shadowhyn jumped, banging her head on the bottom of the table. Ulana raised an eyebrow, and the Elf gasped as she raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Oh, madam, please forgive—”

     Shadowhyn laughed, waving a hand to the maid, “No need to worry miss,” the Bishop rubbed the back of her head with her free hand, “I’m alright. Not to worry.”

     The maid bowed to the Bishop, apologizing again before the woman could stop her. “May I get you ladies anythin’?”

     Ulana leaned forward, still cradling the book in her lap, “I’ll take a spiced wine, please.” She waggled an eyebrow at Shadowhyn, who was still rummaging through her shoulder bag. “My Sister here will take a light dwarven ale, as well.”

     The Elf nodded, and curtsied to the Dark Elf, “I’ll be right out with your drinks, ma’am.” She bowed again to Shadowhyn with another “Ma’am” then disappeared into the kitchen.

     Still rubbing the bump on her head, Shadowhyn thrust a stack of loose papers at Ulana. “It’s… ah…” She shuffled them, pulling at one in particular, spilling the rest onto the hard-wood floor, “This one here.” Ulana took it, turned it right side up, and began to read as Shadowhyn stooped down to pick up the papers she’d strewn about the floor. The barmaid appeared, carrying two earthenware mugs by the handles, setting them onto the table with a rough _clank_. Shadowhyn, her head under the table as she strained for a scrap of paper, jumped at the noise, jostling the table once again. A muffled “ _Strewth!_ ” resounded from around Ulana’s knees.

     Ulana smiled up at the barmaid, who once again gasped and began apologizing. The Summoner waved the Elf away as the Bishop crawled out from under the table, her hands clutching the folded and wrinkled stack of papers. Lending a hand to the human, Ulana once again turned her attention to the letter she held. Shadowhyn plopped into her chair, sighing heavily as she rubbed the newest bump on her head. Taking a deep draught of her ale, Shadowhyn sniffed, inhaling a small portion of the ale, sneezed and started coughing. Ulana lowered the letter to the table, her eyebrow raised at the woman, a smile tugging at her lips. As she coughed, Shadowhyn glared at the Dark Elf, silently daring her to keep smiling. Clearing her throat, and wiping a tear from her eye, Shadowhyn wiggled her hand in the direction of the letter, raising her ale carefully to her lips. The Dark Elf grinned as she lifted the letter again, and Shadowhyn chuckled softly at her own misfortune, and ran a hand through her thick red mane.

     “Hmm…” Ulana made a thoughtful noise, “School of the Dark Arts, eh?” Shadowhyn nodded, her eyes wide and hopeful. Ulana leaned forward on an elbow, her eyes steady on her companion. Taking a sip of her spiced wine, the Dark Elf narrowed her eyes, “And what does this have to do with me, Sister?”

     “Uh, well…” Shadowhyn floundered a bit, “I was hoping you were free to join me.” The Bishop smiled, “As I am the Church’s representative, I can think of _no other_ Drow that I’d wish to have along, and as you _are_ more… ah… intimately aware of the… um… Dark Elven rituals and traditions—”

     “You’ve never been inside the School, have you?” Ulana’s question stopped the Bishop short.

     Shadowhyn, exposed and caught with her mouth open, squirmed in her chair, “You know, you don’t _always_ have to—”

     Ulana laughed, her yellow eyes sparkling in the common room’s dimness, “Shadaera, you _know_ I’d go _anywhere_ you needed me.”

     Shadowhyn smiled and bounced in her chair, “Thank you Sister!”

     A dark shadow loomed large over the table, and a gauntleted fist struck the aged oak, sending the earthenware mugs clattering. Ulana twitched—only a little—while Shadowhyn nearly fell off her seat. “What’s the meaning of this?!” An alto-pitched voice thundered in their ears.

     “DragonClaw!” Shadowhyn’s voice was muffled by the arm she’d thrown in front of her face in surprise, “You _know_ that—”

     DragonClaw laughed, settling in the empty chair, dropping a shoulder bag on the floor. “I’m sorry Shad, I know you’re skittish.” The Bishop _huffed_ at the Paladin, crossing her arms in a pout.

     Ulana grinned and patted Shadowhyn on the shoulder. Turning to the Guild Leader, she remarked, “Now look what you’ve done,” a smile in her eye, “You’ve made her upset.” DragonClaw kept the wide grin on her face, eventually bringing a smile to the Bishop’s lips.

     Shadowhyn waggled a finger at DragonClaw, “One of these days, mind you… One of these days.”

     Ulana leaned forward, taking another sip of her wine, and tapped a finger on the letter Shadowhyn had given her. “Do you know anything about this, DeeCee?”

     The Paladin nodded, a thin smile replacing her grin. “I just received word from the High Priest that I was being sent with Shadowhyn as an escort.” DragonClaw glanced over at the Bishop, who was savoring her dwarven ale. “I take it she’s asked you to come along as an Emissary?”

     Ulana nodded, “I agreed to go along.”

     The Paladin smiled, bowing her head to the Summoner, “Thank you, Ulana. I know Shadowhyn would feel better with you along.” The Bishop nodded vigorously, almost spilling her ale. Ulana put a hand to her face, hoping to hide her smile at her Guild Sister’s clumsiness.

     DragonClaw leaned closer to Ulana and whispered, “ _How much has she had?_ ”

     Ulana pointed, “ _That’s the first._ ”

     Shadowhyn giggled at the serious looks her friends were giving her. “So,” She said brightly, “When do we leave?”

     DragonClaw pulled a worn leather-bound notebook from her bag, and flipped through its pages. “Well, I need to send messages to the other Officers and let them know where I’ll be going.” The Paladin sighed; the duties of a Guild Leader weighed heavy on her shoulders. “I received word from Rhianwen and Phoebus just this morning,” DragonClaw pulled a small note from her book, and began reading, “ _Arrived at Hunter’s Village, our expedition leaves in the morning. Will be gone a fortnight. Keep safe._ ” Ulana and Shadowhyn nodded, and the Paladin continued, “So those two and the five other Guild Members they took with them will not be joining us. Thainn is up in Elmore, he left this morning.” DragonClaw sighed, “I’m not at all sure where the others are… However,” DragonClaw pulled yet another note from her book, “Nifii will be traveling with us to the Dark Elven Village.”

     Ulana nodded as Shadowhyn clapped, “Nifii’s coming along?” the woman asked excitedly.

     DragonClaw nodded, “Yes, it appears…” She unfolded the note further; Shadowhyn thought it was a checklist of some kind. “She’s finished her Trials to become an Elder, and needs to speak with the Tetrearch.” DragonClaw put both pieces of paper back into her notebook, tying its leather cords before putting it back into her bag. “Since we’re going to speak with the Tetrearch anyway, and as I would like to be there for her… what was it? _Ordination_?”

     DragonClaw looked at Ulana, who shook her head, “Entitlement.”

     “Ah yes, her Entitlement. I’d like to be there for it.”

     Ulana, taking another drink of her spiced wine, folded Shadowhyn’s letter and handed it back to the Bishop. “When do we meet with Nifii?” She asked the Paladin.

     Shadowhyn bent down to put the letter back in her bag, as DragonClaw motioned to a barmaid. “After we eat; she and I got into town late last night. She’s at the White Stag Inn, sleeping. We’ll pick her up after she’s rested, and be on our way.”

     The Elf barmaid approached the table carefully, trying not to startle the Bishop, and spoke quietly to DragonClaw. “What can I get for you, M’Lady?” The Paladin ordered a tankard of mead, and a smoked meat stew.

     Ulana tapped Shadowhyn on the shoulder, “What do you want to eat, Sister?”

     The Bishop straightened in her chair, “Oh! I’d like a bit of their roast,” She nodded to the barmaid, “If you please.” The barmaid nodded to the Bishop with a curtsy, then turned to Ulana, “And what can I bring you, ma’am?”

     Ulana grinned.

    

***

    

     The poplar and birch trees dappled the cobblestone street with the shadow of their leaves, the late afternoon sun hanging lower than before, beginning its slow decent towards night. The three Guild Sisters walked down the King’s Road, talking amongst themselves. The sun shone brightly off the deep purple armor of the Paladin, its curves and ridges accented by silver, polished to a brilliant shine. The Bishop’s blue robes, offset by white sleeves over a black bodice, shimmered with the sun; a fine weaving of white lace ran along the hem, sleeves, and collar, while small embroidered flowers - in shades matching the fabrics - glinted as the woman walked. The Summoner, also resplendent in blue and white fabrics, filigreed with golden trimmings and gems, patted her stomach with a sigh.

     “I can’t believe you didn’t eat your lunch, Shadowhyn.” Ulana remarked, casting a sly sideways glance at the Bishop.

     The red-haired woman shot back a darker gaze, a tight-lipped grimace just beneath the surface. “You _know_ I can’t eat anything when you order that salad!” DragonClaw wrinkled her nose, but kept quiet.

     “Oh, it was _just a salad_ Sister, what’s wrong with that?” Ulana licked her lips.

     Shadowhyn threw her hands above her head, “It’s not _just a salad_ when you order the split grilled wyrm’s tongue in it!” Shadowhyn put a hand to her mouth, looking a bit queasy at just mentioning the dish. “I don’t know how you can even _eat_ that!” Ulana laughed, and quickly bit her lip to quiet herself, while DragonClaw shook her head and chuckled; Shadowhyn continued, “Oh _I remember!_ In about five hours you’ll come crawling to me, _begging_ me to take care of the toxins coursing through your veins.” The Bishop folded her arms and _huffed_ at the Dark Elf, “Well, maybe this time I _won’t_.” Ulana could no longer hold her laughter.

     “You know as well as I that you’ve a soft spot for sad cases, Shadaera.” Ulana giggled, throwing her arms around the Bishop, “I’m sorry, I’ll not order that again when I’m eating with you.” A muttered “Thank you” came grudgingly from the woman’s lips.

     DragonClaw spoke up, noticing the market streets’ opening in the City Wall as they walked past. “Do we have everything we need for our journey?” She and the Dark Elf glanced at the Bishop, who was staring up at a flock of birds wheeling through the sky. “Shadaera?”

     “Oh yes, what was that? I’m sorry.” Color rushed to the Bishop's cheeks.

     “Do you have supplies?”

     Shadowhyn cleared her throat, “Oh yes, I do believe I have… um…” She sighed gently, “I’ll have to check.”

     Rounding the corner brought them to the front of the White Stag Inn. It was a tall four-story building, faced with white stone and trimmed with darkened woods; a mostly flat red-tiled roof glistened in the sunlight. A wooden sign hanging over the front doors depicted the whitened silhouette of a great stag over a blue sky and green hill. Not a large building, by Giran standards, but good sized for an Inn. As the three neared the front doors, a window on the second floor slid open. A young female Dark Elf leaned out, hanging most of her upper body out the window, gripping the window frame with her arms outstretched behind her. Nifii called down, “DeeCee! Are we leaving soon?” Her face was energetic, her eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

     “That depends,” the Guild Leader leaned back, looking upward. “Are you done sleeping the day away?”

     Nifii settled down on the bottom of the window, leaning her chin on her crossed forearms. “I was tired,” She pouted, “You kept me up late.” Catching sight of the Bishop, Nifii waved. “Shadow!”

     Shadowhyn waved back, a wide smile on her face, “Nifii!”

     “Did you hear?”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Almost an Elder? I’m proud of you, little one!”

     Nifii beamed, disappeared into the room, reappearing a moment later. She held out a bright green and gold accented tunic, “Look! Thainn put the finishing touches on my Karmian this morning!”

     Shadowhyn gasped, putting a hand to her mouth, “That reminds me, Dragon and I have something for you!” Nifii bounced with excitement, almost toppling from the window.

     DragonClaw waved her back, “Careful! Get inside Nifii, we’ll be right up.” The Oracle nodded, paused long enough to wave and smile at Ulana, then slid the window shut with a _bang_.

     Ulana clucked softly, “Such energy that one has.”

     Shadowhyn playfully flipped the Dark Elf’s hair, “I seem to recall you having just as much energy when you reached your Entitlement.”

     DragonClaw grinned as Ulana laughed, “So I did.”

     The Paladin pulled the Inn’s door open, faint sounds of conversation and the sweet scent of ales and wines drifting out the door. “I’ll head up and get packed.” Shadowhyn and Ulana nodded. “Meet back here within the hour,” DragonClaw glanced up at the sun noting its position in the sky, “I’d like to reach the Dark Elf Village before sunset.”

    

*****


	7. Chapter 7

     

     

     The very air twisted and churned, tying itself in a knot. A gleam of light no larger than the point of a pin flared into being; illuminating the roiling cloud, the gleam widened, seeming to harden the air around it. A fissure appeared - first one tiny crack, then another. Multiplying rapidly, the cracks swelled as space itself was torn open, a gaping maw roaring into the void. Light blazed within the void, as daylight found itself filtering through a freshly opened Gate. A woman’s hand reached out, gripping the edge of the vortex. At her touch, the jagged tear in space smoothed and solidified, became stable.

     DragonClaw bowed to the Gatekeeper, and handed her a small bag full of coins. “For myself, and my companions.” The Paladin motioned behind her, indicating the red-haired human and the two pale-skinned Dark Elves.

     Clarissa, the Gatekeeper stationed in Giran, hefted the coin pouch and bowed her head to the armored woman. Squeezing her fist tight around the coin pouch, a smaller fissure appeared to swallow the bag DragonClaw had handed her. The Gatekeeper’s firm voice echoed, as if traveling down an immensely long corridor, yet soft as if her words were whispered into the ear. “You may pass through the Gate. Safe travels to you.”

     DragonClaw bowed again, tightening the straps which held her shield over her shoulders, and lifted her axe close to her chest. The Paladin stepped through the mirror-like surface of the gate, disappearing into her reflection for an instant before shimmering into view on the far side. Nifii looked at the Bishop, then at the Summoner. Shadowhyn motioned her forward. Nifii eyed the Gate carefully, her hands white-knuckled as she clenched them around the straps of her shoulder bag. Bowing her head to the Gatekeeper, the young Oracle clenched her teeth and jumped through the Gate. The Summoner tightened the leather straps that held her twin blades on her back, and picked her satchel off the ground. Ulana nodded to Clarissa as she slung her bag over her shoulder, stepping through to Gludin’s sunlight. The Bishop curtsied, flashing a smile to Clarissa. Starting for the Gate, Shadowhyn stopped short, then ran back to the wall she’d been leaning against. Snatching up her staff—a hand-carved length of aged wood, inscribed with various runes and symbols—which was leaning against the wall, Shadowhyn ran back towards the Gate. The Bishop’s lively “Thank you!” echoed through the fissure as she hopped through, just before the Gatekeeper released it.

     Shielding her eyes from the sun, DragonClaw studied its height above the horizon. “Come along now,” She glanced over her shoulder at the three mages, “We’ll want to reach the Dark Elf Territory before dark.” The Paladin smiled at Nifii, “I’m sure Nifii won’t stand for anyone slowing her down.” The young Dark Elf nodded vigorously, and glared at Shadowhyn who was pretend-marching at a Golom’s pace. Seeing the light in the Oracle’s eye, the Bishop tightened her grip on her shoulder bag and ran for Gludin’s East Gate; Nifii only steps behind. Ulana smiled as she watched the other two disappear down the cobblestone street.

     “We can stay at my home tonight,” Ulana began to walk alongside DragonClaw, “If we’re lucky, my brother may be there. If not, we’ll still have warm beds to sleep in, without needing to pay an Innkeeper.”

     The Paladin nodded, thoughtfully. “Thank you, Ulana.” She glanced over at the Dark Elf, “Will your little sister be there?”

     Ulana grinned, “Yes, Shin should be home.”

     The two reached the East Gate, and looked for the Bishop and the Oracle. Hearing footsteps down an alley, Ulana turned, “Here they come.” Rounding the corner, Nifii chased Shadowhyn, both at a full run. Slowing at the gate, Shadowhyn paused to regain her breath, her hands on her knees. Laughing, Nifii launched herself at the Bishop, tickling the human mercilessly. The Bishop squealed, and stumbled out the gate laughing, brushing at the young Dark Elf’s hands. Ulana grinned; Shadowhyn was mostly harmless, but even more so when being tickled.

     DragonClaw laughed, and looked at Ulana, “Well, let’s get a move on.” She looked over her shoulder at the two mages still locked in deadly combat, “They’ll catch up eventually.”

     The sun was a dim red sliver above the tree-line when the four Guild Sisters passed through the Southern Entrance to the Dark Elven Village. The sentries at the entrance, clothed in plate-steel bound with strips of leather, paid no heed to the pairs of humans and Dark Elves that were walking past. Shadowhyn looked at the sentry closest to her as they walked by. The sentry’s eyes were covered with a thick dark cloth, tied at the back of her head, the knot woven into her elaborate piling of hair. Shadowhyn slowed, trying to see the sentry’s eyes through the veil, without success. Silently, the sentry turned her head to face Shadowhyn, a feral grin tugging at the Dark Elf’s lips. The Bishop stumbled a step, startled by the sentry’s movement.

     Ulana tugged at Shadowhyn’s hand, pulling her alongside the others. “Come now,” The Summoner pointed, “My home is this way.” It was late in the day, the sun casting long shadows from the twisted, blackened trees. An eerie wind blew through the strange land, ruffling the leaves on the trees framing the path. The four women slowly made their way toward the Summoner’s house, the Paladin and Bishop having a difficult time in the failing light. Ulana had to resist the tugging of a smile on her lips. The Dark Elf’s vision was much stronger in the dusk than the humans’. It served to amuse the Drow at the moment, watching Shadowhyn stumble for the fifth time over a rock she had not seen.

     “This is quite unfair Ula,” grumbled the Bishop, wincing at her hurt toe, “I swear you’re leading us through the roughest terrain!” Her hands glowed briefly illuminating the path for a moment. “Ahh that’s bette—” she began to say, before stumbling again.

     Laughing aloud, Ulana took the Bishop by the shoulders and moved her in front. “Don’t give me that look Sister; I’m only trying to help.” The red-haired woman glared back grumbling under her breath again. “Here it is,” the Summoner said, pointing toward a clearing, “We’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

     The Dark Elf’s home was set in a wooded clearing, against the face of a cliff that jutted up against the sky. The building seemed to grow out of the stone it was built into, having a dark, foreboding nature about it. “Your home is... interesting” Shadowhyn said, an amused smile crossing her lips. “Could use some brighten—”

     “Don’t start, Sister!” cried the Dark Elf as she huffed in exasperation. “I hear enough from you about my tastes in things, I don’t need your opinion about my home!” The Bishop and Paladin both laughed aloud, as Nifii and Ulana exchanged annoyed looks. “Humans…” Ulana muttered to herself.

     “Ulana! You’re home!” a voice called from the house. A tall male Dark Elf stood in the doorway, framed in the light of the house. He wore his cloak loose, revealing the white shifting tunic beneath. He sauntered down the steps to the path, giving the four women a roguish grin, “Now I see why you’re getting here so late.”

     “DhubCroi, is that really you?!” The red-haired woman cried, rushing forward to throw her arms around his neck.

     “Oh nooo!” Dhub playfully recoiled in terror before embracing the Bishop, “I wouldn’t have come home if I knew you’d be here.” He grinned again as she swatted at his chest.

     “The terrible things you say to me,” she sputtered, “How have your missions been coming along? Well, I hope?” Shadowhyn asked, catching sight of the large dagger slung at his hip. DhubCroi had belonged to the Guild for quite a while, but had proved himself worthy to join the Silent Ones, an elite group who answered only to the Tetrearch.

     Rubbing the faint white scar that crossed his face, Dhub thumbed his nose, “It takes some adjustment, but I suppose they’re coming along just fine.”

     Ulana approached, giving her brother a smile and a light punch to the shoulder, “It seems like you succeeded in not tearing down the house while I was gone, Brother.” Nifii and DragonClaw gave their salute to the Abyss Walker, receiving a bow in return.

     Dhub sighed heavily “Sister, you’re quite full of yourself; you’re as much trouble as Shin sometimes.” Laughing, the two siblings embraced each other, neither of them having seen the other in quite a time.

     The group moved inside the house, the travelers taking off their boots, leaving their weapons and bags in the rooms Dhub had prepared for them. The inside of the house was rather dark at first glance, with faint candles giving off a blueish light. Oddly enough it did not take long for Shadowhyn or DragonClaw’s eyes to adjust. The brother and sister began working on the evening meal, their three guests unburdened for the moment.

     They entered the sparsely furnished dining room. A heavily gilt table stood in the middle of the room, framed by stout wooden chairs. DragonClaw and Nifii sat at the wide table as Shadowhyn stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the siblings bicker quietly as they prepared the food. “Where _is_ Shinoa?” the Bishop asked, “Shouldn’t she be home by now?”

     “She is still attending to her lessons under the blademasters in the training grounds,” Dhub answered, “Shin is progressing faster than I imagined; she takes after her mother.”

     “The rotten little upstart,” Ulana added with a grin.

     “How soon until she can join the Guild?” Shadowhyn asked, “Three Elviranes should make for three times the trouble!” DragonClaw swore quietly at the thought, setting the whole group to laughter.

     “It should be some time yet,” Ulana called, trying to reassure the Paladin, “She’s got several years to go before she’s old enough.”

     “And more training to finish,” Dhub added as he walked in, a bottle in one hand and five thin-stemmed glasses dangling from the other. He poured for his guests, each woman taking a glass of blue wine. “I’m fairly certain she’ll follow in our Mothers’ footsteps.” He returned to the kitchen, bringing three plates with him. Ulana followed with another three.

     “Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Ulana said as she set the servings down on the table, “I’ll not have anyone weaving fire in here to reheat their food.” Steam rose from the meat and vegetables as the five sat down at the table. The Summoner put a cover on the plate next to her, to keep it warm. “You should like this, Shadowhyn,” Ulana said with the tiniest smirk, gazing innocently across the table.

     “What is it?” the Bishop asked as she smoothed her skirts.

     The Dark Elf drew out a hum, smiling sweetly as she answered, “Ohh, a bit of bat meat and eel root, a little spider venom for flavor.” Her smile turned mischievous. The red-haired woman’s face turned, her hands went immediately to her mouth.

     Nifii laughed around a mouthful of food, “Oh, give it a try Shadowhyn,” she paused to swallow, “It’s quite like that ‘chicken’ you had us try.” Knowing she was outnumbered, the healer set to eating.

     The house shook as the front door opened & slammed shut. A young voice growled, accompanied by a crash, “DHUUBBBB! I’m hungry! When is Ulana getting ho—” a high-pitched voice drew close to the dining room. “Who are you people?!!” a Dark Elf youngling exclaimed as she walked into the dining room. The youngest Elvirane sister was quite short, her appearance mirroring Ulana’s except for her hair having been pulled back in a tight bun. Her little face contorted in a frown, she gave quite a fierce impression for a child her age. Crossing her arms, she pouted, “I didn’t know we were having company over today. Granny didn’t say anything about this!”

     DragonClaw sniffed, trying to stifle a laugh, “I guess this is Shinoa? Rather small, eh?”

     Shinoa’s chest puffed up indignantly, “And who might you humans be? And don’t call me short!”

     Shadowhyn laughed, “She has your temper, Sister.” Smiling brightly at the young Drow, she stood and curtsied, “I am called Shadowhyn, and this is DragonClaw. We are in your sister’s Guild. I am quite pleased to meet you at last.”

     Shinoa’s expression didn’t change, “Ok, well, that’s nice,” she turned, “Ulana, I thought you’d be coming alone!”

     Ulana glared at her sister, “What is wrong with you? You have no right to be rude to my friends!”

     Shinoa returned the glare with fervor, “Well if you must know, I got in trouble with Blademaster Harant today.” She shifted her feet idly as Dhub gave her a pointed glance, “Oh Dhub, I know you told me to behave, but hear me out.” She took a seat on a stool near the wall. “It was all that... Fiomar’s fault! He made fun of me when I beat him in sparing today. His forms are horrible!” Her fists tightened on the edge of the stool, her anger clearly showing in her whitened knuckles, “He called me a lout! And then he said I’d make mother ashamed!” Her eyes shone with tears briefly before the anger leapt back to them. “So, I found him after lessons and taught him one in return!” Her eyes shone with her fury, “but Blademaster Harant heard the commotion and caught me.” Shinoa burst into tears “I only want to follow in mothers’ footsteps, I just—”

     “There, there, Shin,” Ulana said standing from her seat and crossing the dining room to embrace her sister, “It’s time to calm down. Are you hungry?”

     Shinoa shook her head, “No, I’m too mad to eat,” she groused.

     Ulana chuckled, “I think it’s time for bed, little one. Come now.” Muttering to herself, the little girl picked herself up, and followed Ulana upstairs.

     “She will be strong, that one,” Shadowhyn said before looking at Dhub, “by the way, this _is_ delicious… Don’t tell Ulana I said that.”

     

***

     

     “Wait, wait, _wait!_ ” Shinoa interrupted, startling Shadowhyn from her reverie. “I don’t remember meeting you before!” The look on the Blade Dancer’s face told the Bishop that she was sure she’d uncovered a lie.

     “Well, you were quite the handful when you came home.” Shadowhyn thumbed her nose and donned a rakish grin, adopting DhubCroi’s mannerisms, “ _‘Full of piss and vinegar, that one’_ , as your brother would say.” Shadowhyn shifted her position on the rock; she rubbed absent-mindedly at an ankle that had fallen asleep, “What _do_ you remember of that night?”

     Shinoa faltered. “Well… uh… coming home angry at Harant, and being happy that my Sister was there…” She lowered her gaze, and idly picked at a patch of grass before her, “And… getting angry again because Ulana had guests… which meant I had to share her.”

     Shadowhyn exhaled softly, “I’m sorry, Shinoa. I know the next day was even worse.”

     Shinoa rubbed at her eyes, gritting her teeth to help stop the tears from starting. “I got to see her, at least… Sorry for interrupting,” She looked down at her hands, “Please, continue.”

     The Bishop leaned forward to brush a strand of hair from Shinoa’s face, and kissed her gently on the forehead. Shinoa looked up at the human, her eyes still trembling. Shadowhyn settled back on the rock, and tapped a fingertip on her lips, “Now… where was I...”

     

***

     

     _We arrived at the Dark Elven Village today, and I must say it’s not what I expected. Never having been to the Dark Elf Territory before, I was a little frightened by the landscape itself. An arid, almost desiccated, terrain stretches as far as the eye can see; the trees are all but petrified, their limbs and branches clawing up at the sky, searching for rain that will never fall. The wildlife itself is equally frightening. Spiders and rats, grown far larger than normal, are vicious to match their unnatural size._

     _From what little I know of the Dark Elf history, it is said that the changes to the landscape were brought about by a curse upon the Drow by a branch of the Elf family that was destroyed in the Ancient Wars. I will have to study more of this, when the opportunity presents itself. I cherish my Sister Ulana, as well as my relationship with DhubCroi, Nifii and Dorelliun. I do not wish to offend them through my ignorance of their customs… Einhasad watch over me as I carry out this mission in the School._

     _Once we reached the village proper, Ulana took us to her childhood home. As luck would have it, Dhub was home — he is not always around, as his missions with the Silent Ones come without warning. Ula had sent word to him of our impending arrival, and he had made certain to be there to greet us. Shinoa, Ula and Dhub’s young sister, was not home when we arrived. Dhub remarked that Shinoa was at the Fighter’s School that day, but was longer about getting home than normal. Ulana had a knowing smile when she heard; as she was not worried, I tried not to be as well._

     _Ulana had also sent word to the Tetrearch of our wish to speak with him. For reasons known only to him, he sent word that we should see him at First Light. Nifii was a little downcast at her Entitlement being delayed until the morning, but her mood brightened considerably when her coming-of-title gift from DragonClaw and I arrived. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, I’d had the Freightmaster in Giran send it to the Village’s warehouse. My mouth had fallen open in shock when I’d been told the cost of shipping the Widowmaker to the Dark Elven Territory. I’ll have to watch my purchases for the rest of the month, but the look on Nifii’s face was well worth the cost. As soon as she’d opened the crate, she had me outside teaching her what little I knew of how to use it. She’ll soon master that polearm; I only had to tell her something once, and she could do it better than I._

     _I’ll be bunking with DragonClaw tonight as Ulana shares a room with Shinoa. I hope I can get to sleep at a good hour… My stomach is in knots. I’ve never received such an assignment from the High Priest before, and I hope I can accomplish what I’ve been sent to do._

     Shadowhyn pushed her journal aside, looking over her shoulder as DragonClaw walked in, toweling her hair dry after washing for the night. The Bishop grinned at the tall Paladin’s groan, the blonde clearly enjoying the soft bed as she settled down for the night. The red-haired woman looked back at the words she had written, worry still churning in her stomach. “DeeCee, what do you think we’ll find tomorrow?” the small woman asked, closing her journal and standing up from the desk. “I wonder if I’m the right person for the j—” She stopped, noticing the other woman had already fallen asleep.

     Stepping as quietly as she could, the Bishop walked to the lantern on the wall, turning the flame down so the other woman could sleep undisturbed. She crept out the door, closing it gently. Stifling a yawn of her own, she padded down the stairs. The front room and the dining room were empty and dark, but a light still burned in the kitchen. She found the Elvirane brother and sister sitting at the small round table there, a half-empty bottle of wine between them. Dhub and Ulana looked up as she entered. “Oh,” Shadowhyn said, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your talk, I—you don’t get to see ea—I’ll go.”

     They both laughed, Ulana waving her over for a hug, Dhub rising to get another glass for her. He poured some more of the blue wine as Ulana asked, “What’s wrong, Shadaera?”

     The Bishop frowned, shrugging her shoulders. “Just nervous about tomorrow, I guess,” she said, brushing a hand through her hair, “Thanks,” she said to Dhub, lifting her glass before taking a sip.

     Ulana waved a hand, her movements loose and warm, “Nonsense, you’ll be fine. Besides,” she leaned over to hug the human again, “What could go wrong? I’ll be right there with you.” Shadowhyn patted her hand as she took another drink of wine.

     Dhub looked at Ulana, tilting his head slightly at the human. Ulana sighed, rolling her eyes at him before setting her head down on the red-haired woman’s shoulder. “I’ve not been sleeping well,” she confided, her voice soft and uncertain, “I’ve been having nightmares again, they’ve… been happening more often.” She pushed a handful of platinum hair over her shoulder, snuggling her head into the crook of Shadowhyn’s neck.

     “Oh, Sister,” the red-haired woman wrapped her arms around the Dark Elf leaning on her shoulder, “Why didn’t you say something?”

     “I didn’t want to worry you,” came the response, the words buzzing faintly against the human’s collarbone. It tickled a bit, but she bit back the giggle.

     Dhub swirled the wine in his glass before downing the rest at once, “She hides too much, things she should _share_.” He considered the bottle for a moment before deciding to pour himself another half-glass. Shadowhyn held out her glass for a refill as he continued to speak, “Has she told you about the nightmare?”

     She shook her head as Ulana groaned into her neck, “I don’t want to talk about it, Brother!”

     He pointed a finger at her as he took a sip of wine, his eyes never straying from her face. “You told me that you would talk to her about it.” He leaned forward with a grin, “If you don’t tell her, _I_ will.”

     “Fine!” The Dark Elf threw her hands up in the air, sitting up straight as she glared at him, “have it _your_ way.” Her shoulders slumped as she played with her wine glass, spinning it carefully on the table top. “I know I said _nightmares_ , but it’s just one. It’s the same nightmare every time.” She held her glass out for Dhub to refill, downing half the glass before continuing.

     “I am standing in a room. Just the sight of it fills me with terror. It is filled with treasure,” Ulana stops to take another sip of wine, a deep breath, “Then I am holding gold and jewels in my hands, and they begin to melt, turning to blood. Bile starts to rise in my throat as I scream. The room itself begins to melt around me, and…” She shrugs, “then I wake up.” She sighed so heavily that Shadowhyn couldn’t help but give her a hug, rubbing her forehead against the Dark Elf’s jaw.

     Ulana smiled, giving the woman a squeeze in return, “It… it wouldn’t be so bad, except _El-Un-Silhouette_ said it was a memory, not just a dream.” Shadowhyn blinked at that, catching sight of Dhub’s frown. She sat up straight, looking at the Dark Elf. “It’s fine, Shadaera,” Ulana said quietly, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

     The Bishop glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the stars sparkling in the dark sky, “I hate to leave it at that, but I cannot stay up any longer,” she said, “I hope you sleep well tonight.” She stood, walking to the Summoner’s chair, leaning over her shoulders to hug her tight. “You can always talk to me, you know that, right?” she said to the Drow, getting a hum in response, “I will see you in the morning,” she said quietly, puffing a breath onto the Dark Elf’s ear.

     Ulana twitched, swatting the human on the forehead with a muttered, “dolt!” before smiling, rubbing her head into the red-haired woman’s neck, “Good night, Shadaera,” she said.

     Shadowhyn turned to Dhub, bowing with a silly grin, “Thank you for your hospitality,” she said sincerely, stooping to give him a kiss on the forehead. He waved a hand, smiled, and watched as the human left the room.

     

***

     

     _Ulana laughed maniacally as she swung down, her keen-edged sword slicing through the staff Shadowhyn held, plunging deep into the human’s chest._

     _No._

     _Ulana lay on the ground, her face and hands gaunt as if she were wasting away. Blood poured from a deep gash in her side; Shadowhyn stood and watched, impassive as her Sister’s life poured onto the stone._

     _No!_

     _A dark shadow swirled around the two standing back to back. Bloody and beaten, the Summoner and the Bishop faced outward, eyes fearful as the ring of Darkness tightened around them._

     _What_ is _this?_

     _Shadowhyn fell to her knees, Ulana’s hand still grasping the hilt of the blade that pierced her chest. Madness danced in the Dark Elf’s eyes, reflected in the Bishop’s gaze._

     _She would_ never

     _the Summoner hung from the end of the aged wooden staff Shadowhyn held; a glowing spearhead—as if made of light—emerged from the Dark Elf’s back. Ulana coughed, and her blood poured down the shaft, a dark slickness that coated the Bishop’s hands._

     “ _NO!_ ” Shadowhyn sat upright, her chest heaving in panic, tears streaming down her face as sweat beaded heavily on her brow. She looked at her hands, _There’s no blood!_ She looked around the room, lost. A small candle on a desk across the room cast a small amount of bluish light. Dimly, the woman could see the shape of DragonClaw, sleeping peacefully in the bed by the window, undisturbed by the Bishop’s yell. _We’re in Ulana’s home_ , Shadowhyn’s breath was ragged, as she tried to calm herself, _It was just a dream…_

     

***

     

     Dawn’s first light found the Bishop sitting sullenly in the Elvirane kitchen, slowly sipping at a cup of hot tea. Dark circles under the woman’s eyes made her face seem older than her years, her green eyes dull. Shadowhyn rubbed her face vigorously, pausing to slap her cheeks. _Wake up!_ She stifled a yawn. _It will do no good to fall asleep on your feet while speaking to the Tetrearch_. The thought of meeting with the Dark Elven leader twisted her stomach.

     DragonClaw entered the kitchen, walking down the back stair-case. As she sat at the table across from the Bishop, the Paladin worked a kink from her shoulder before tightening the straps on her pauldron. “Morning, Shadow.” DragonClaw stretched before standing to retrieve a cup from the cabinet. “Didn’t sleep well, eh?”

     “Not at _all_.” Shadowhyn sighed. “I’m just so nervous about our mission.”

     The Guild Leader chuckled, “Don’t let it worry you so much. You’ll do fine.” She turned to smile at the worried woman. “Besides, Ula and I will be there to watch out for you.” The Bishop nodded at that, and took another sip of her tea.

     Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Nifii appeared in the doorway. Stretching with a yawn, the young Oracle walked over to the Bishop and hugged her shoulders, “Morning Shad.”

     The Bishop laid her head on the Dark Elf’s shoulder and patted her arm, “Morning Nifii.”

     Nifii sniffed at Shadowhyn’s cup, “Mmm that smells good.”

     DragonClaw hefted the carafe that she’d just poured from, “There’s some for you here, Nifii.”

     The Oracle reached into the cabinet for a cup and waited patiently while the Paladin poured for her. “Thank you, DeeCee.”

     Nifii sat next to Shadowhyn, while DragonClaw returned to her seat on the opposite side of the table. “When do we go to the Temple?” Shadowhyn asked.

     “Within the hour,” DragonClaw glanced out the kitchen’s window, noting the amount of light in the sky, “As soon as we are able to leave, actually.”

     Nifii looked nervously at the Paladin, “Am I… I mean, will I be going with you?”

     DragonClaw nodded. “Your Entitlement ceremony is this morning, then afterwards the three of us have to speak with the Tetrearch about our mission.”

     The Oracle nodded and paused before asking, “Do you think I could come too?” Her eyes were hopeful.

     Shadowhyn sighed, “As much as I would like you to come with us…” She paused, looking over at the young Dark Elf, “I had nightmares last night. I’ve got a bad feeling about…” The Bishop shuddered before continuing, “I can’t allow you to come with us.”

     Nifii pouted at the woman, “Oh, Shadowhyn, it’ll be fine—”

     “No!” Ulana’s outburst surprised the three at the table. “I’m sorry Nifii,” The Summoner entered the kitchen, sitting next to DragonClaw. “I had… more nightmares.” A snarl curled her lips; Shadowhyn had hoped she wouldn’t have any more last night, after their talk in the kitchen. Her eyes were dark and sunken from lack of sleep, though she masked her exhaustion better than Shadowhyn. She placed a hand gently on one of the Oracle’s. “Please understand, young one—”

     The Oracle yanked her hand free, “I’m not as young and weak as you all think!” Her eyes blazed, staring at the other three in turn, “I’m becoming an Elder this morning! I don’t need your… your _pity!_ ” Nifii’s voice trembled as she held back tears.

     DragonClaw cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to the Paladin. “No one here pities you, Nifii. We all know your strength, and willingness to help your friends.” Shadowhyn and Ulana nodded, but Nifii still looked angry. “And you are correct,” The Guild Leader continued, “You _are_ becoming an Elder.” DragonClaw smiled softly, “You must understand, it’s not always easy to adjust one’s thinking as time passes.” Nifii seemed to settle a bit.

     “I still sometimes think of you as our impulsive new Oracle, Nifii,” Shadowhyn placed a hand on the Dark Elf’s arm, “Forgive me for belittling you; I did not intend to do so.”

     “It’s okay, Shadow.” Nifii hugged the Bishop’s arm, laying her head on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Ula.”

     The older Dark Elf smiled, “Not to worry.” The Summoner stood to get a cup for herself.

     Shadowhyn nodded to herself. “Nifii, you may come with us.” The Oracle’s eyes widened and Ulana looked over her shoulder at the Bishop, an eyebrow raised. “But, if anything happens within the School…” Shadowhyn paused, finger raised, “You’ll be the one to Escape to the village and give word to the Tetrearch.”

     Nifii nodded, “I understand, Shadow.” A grin broke across her face, “Thank you!” She threw a hug around the Bishop’s neck, and kissed her cheek. “I need to go get ready!” Nifii waved to the others, and ran up the stairs.

     Ulana sat, glowering slightly at the red-haired woman before asking, “Are you sure that was wise?” DragonClaw took a final sip of her tea, intent on the woman’s answer.

     “I… am… in charge of this mission.” Shadowhyn sighed heavily, “And Nifii is growing up. I will not hold her back.” A hard look came to the Bishop’s eye, “But I will protect her from what may be in the School.” She looked at Ulana, her gaze softening, “What did you dream, Sister?”

     Ulana frowned, her eyes glazing as she remembered. “What I always dream, Shadaera… what I always dream.”

     Dhub walked in silently, his presence interrupting the women’s conversation. He muttered darkly as he hurriedly fastened his cloak about his neck. “The Silent Ones have called,” He looked at Ulana, “Mother Asumae will be over to check on Shinoa.” He stepped to the table and hugged his sister, “Take care, ‘lana.” He kissed her gently on the forehead, then placed a hand on DragonClaw’s shoulder, “I leave her in your hands; safe travels.”

     Shadowhyn slid out of her chair and threw her arms around the Abyss Walker’s neck, “You stay safe too, Dhub.”

     His familiar rakish grin reappeared, “Not to worry, little one. I must be off.”

     

*****


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

     The stone hand in the center of the Village shimmered as lightning coursed over its surface. Great blue-white arcs of electricity leapt across its carved faces, drawn into a coruscating ball floating above its outstretched fingers. Floating in the space above the hand, a scattering of star-like points of light glittered, shining through a thin veil of mist. On the far side of the misty cloud, a much bigger and brighter star shone faintly. Aside from torches and flickering street-lamps, the Hand and its field of stars were all that illuminated the cavern in which the Dark Elf Village lay. Shadowhyn’s eyes had long since adjusted to the relative dimness of the Village, but she still longed for the bright yellow glow of the sun.

     The four Guild Sisters slowly climbed the stairs to the Temple; liveried adjutants and ceremony guards flanked them on all sides, while two wizened Elders led Nifii ahead of the other three adventurers. The young Oracle—soon to be Elder—looked serene, but Shadowhyn could see her hands, white-knuckled, clutching the sides of her robes. The Bishop tried to keep her own face calm, but the churning knot in her stomach held serenity at bay.

     Cresting the stairs, Shadowhyn could see the Temple proper, a delicately carven building set back into the side of a cliff. Pillars stretched high above to hold the second floor’s balcony, a gilded balustrade hiding whatever lay beyond. Walking through the main doors, almost twice as tall as the Bishop and twice again as wide, the party strode through the ante-chamber and under a flight of stairs that circled the room. Stopping in front of ornately carved double doors— _Is that_ petrified _wood?_ Shadowhyn thought to herself—the party halted as the Elders in the lead motioned them to be still. The Elder on the right side held his silver-laced staff straight in both hands, and brought it down on the floor three times in succession. A ringing _clang_ leapt from the staff with each downward thrust, echoing throughout the building. A hollow voice called from inside the room, “ _Who disturbs me?”_

     The Elder turned to face Nifii, and motioned to her. Nervously, she cleared her throat, and called, “One who would be an Elder!” Shadowhyn’s heart pounded in her ears; she knew that only seconds passed, but those scant seconds felt like long hours to the nervous women.

     “ _Enter, and prove yourself an Elder!”_ The hollow voice rolled through the hall. The two old Dark Elves each took a door, and pulled them wide, motioning for the party of four to enter the room.

     _‘Room’ doesn’t do it justice!_ Shadowhyn gasped in awe at the massive hall that stretched almost as far as the eye could see. The Bishop wasn’t sure if it was a trick, or if the immense space was truly carved out of the rock. Pillars—so great that all four women holding hands with arms outstretched could not have encircled one—lined the room, supporting great beams of gilded wood stretching across the ceiling. Statues stood between the pillars, so tall that the Bishop’s head came to their knees, each of a different Dark Elf of legend. In the midst, a red and gold woven carpet ran to the center of the room, ending at the first steps of a platform. Atop the dais, a heavy-looking desk sat to one side, with only a chair behind it for seating. To the other side was a fountain, bubbling as the water slowly flowed down the marble pillar in its center.

     Tetrearch Theifell stood between the fountain and the desk, an imposing figure draped in black and gold. His hands, lined and spotted with age, held an ornate staff; a simple circlet of gold adorned his head, holding his long white hair back from his face. The four women walked the length of the carpet, and kneeled at the base of the platform with heads bowed, Nifii a step ahead of the others. The Tetrearch’s voice was deep, like the roll of thunder, “Who dares to follow the Elder’s Way?”

     Nifii raised her head as she spoke, “Nifinae, daughter of Ael’Lola, daughter of Sahri’Nino of the house Al’Listaire, dares to follow.” Her voice, surprisingly steady to Shadowhyn’s ear, barely echoed in the Hall of Legends.

     The Tetrearch spoke again, “Rise, Child, and show me proof of your conviction.” The Oracle stood, her knees a little shaky, and reached into the pouch at her belt. The Tetrearch reached out for the three fragments of parchment that Nifii placed into his hand. Kneeling again, she waited as the Tetrearch studied the symbols burned into the parchment.

     “Having been a Pilgrim, having sought your Fate, having been Reformed; do you still wish to follow Shilen’s path?” His voice, low and deep, seemed to make the floor tremble.

     “I wish it so, Tetrearch.” Nifii’s voice echoed through the Hall this time, as she spoke the traditions.

     The Tetrearch nodded, “So be it, _Elder_.” His face remained motionless as he spoke, but as his words echoed into the darkness behind the dais, a violent gust of wind tore through the massive hall. The torrential winds swirled around the platform, lofting Nifii into the air. Floating before the Tetrearch, the Oracle watched as Theifell ran a silver chalice through the fountain’s water. Stepping to the young Dark Elf suspended before him, his eyes blazed with pride. “Be washed of your old self, Child,” Nifii gasped as he poured the icy water over her head, “And be known as Nifinae Al’Listaire, Elder of Shilen.”

     The gale-force wind subsided, lowering Nifii to the carpet covered stone. Before it faded, she noticed that the wind had blown her robes dry; only her hair retained a slight damp from the fountain’s water. She knelt before the Tetrearch, “Shilen’s wish is my desire.”

     The Dark Elf Leader’s nodded, his voice a gravelly deep bass. “May it always be so,” He motioned, “Rise Elder.” He looked to Nifii’s Guild Sisters, “You may also rise.”

     The Tetrearch turned, and walked up to the massive, ornate desk that sat to one side of the dais. Walking behind the desk, the old Drow leaned his staff against a metal frame, and sat in the padded leather chair. His brow furrowed as he looked over a letter on his desk, the Tetrearch motioned the four women to approach, his fingertips steepled in front of his face. “So…” He began as the Guild Sisters stood in a line before his desk, his eyes resting on Ulana, “You come before me again, Ulana, daughter of Mayuri, daughter of Elsanor.” The Summoner nodded, stiffly. Shadowhyn could see anger simmering in her Sister’s eyes. His eyes flicked to hold the Bishop’s attention, his gaze penetrating. “And you, Shadowhyn, daughter of Kariene, daughter of Jade. You have come to relieve us of our… difficulties.”

     Shadowhyn bowed, her mouth almost too dry to speak. “Ye-yes Tetrearch. I have been sent to lend whatever aid I am able.”

     The Tetrearch nodded, “Yes… so you have. So you shall.” The old Dark Elf stood, his hands flat on his desk. “You have leave to perform your duty as you see fit.” He looked at each woman in turn, “The School of the Dark Arts is a training ground for our people when they come of age.” Shadowhyn thought she heard him snort, “I fail to see what difference you can make in the School, but so be it.” The Bishop’s mouth dropped open, as did DragonClaw’s and Nifii’s.

     Ulana let her anger fill her voice, “Tetrearch, tell us what you know.”

     He pierced her with a fiery gaze, stepping out from behind his desk, “Remember _yourself_ , Summoner. You, most of all, should have an inkling of what lies beneath the school.”

     Anger whipped through Ulana, her hands squeezing into fists at her sides, “Which is why I asked you in the first place, as I _don’t_ remember!”

     “Forgotten, have we?” The Tetrearch drew dangerously close to the Summoner’s face, “Forgotten _already_? If so, _I_ — _cannot_ — _help_ — _you_.” Shadowhyn trembled; she’d seen that look in Ulana’s eye before, and Dhub had sported a black eye for several days because of it.

     Ulana’s rage was palpable, her voice held thinly veiled contempt, “I don’t _need_ your help.”

     The Tetrearch laughed and stepped away from the Summoner, which startled the women, and served to infuriate Ulana further. “ _You_ don’t need _MY_ help?” He turned swiftly, seeming to grow larger as his anger became visible. “How is it that you still _exist_ without _my help_?” Ulana’s eyes widened as spots of red appeared on her face; Shadowhyn thought some of her anger was turning into embarrassment.

     The Summoner bared her teeth, “I didn’t _ask_ for your help then, and I only asked _now_ because something’s _WRONG!_ ”

     Shadowhyn blinked, confused, and stared at Ulana. _What’s wrong Ula?_ The Bishop wondered to herself. She could see the same confusion reflected in DragonClaw and Nifii’s face.

     The old Drow waved his hand dismissively, “It is not of my doing, Child. Some things I truly have no knowledge of.” He paused, looking over the shocked and angry faces before him, “You may go now. Do what you will, and report your findings to me.” Ulana opened her mouth to speak, but another look from the Tetrearch caused her to reconsider. Silently, the four women bowed, and walked from the Hall of Legends.

     Outside the temple, Ulana still shook with rage. Wordlessly, Shadowhyn hugged the Dark Elf, pulling the Summoner’s head into the curve of her neck and shoulder; behind Ulana, DragonClaw clapped Nifii on the shoulder, “Congratulations, little one.”

     Nifii smiled, light dancing in her eyes, “I need to go visit the Magisters.”

     The Paladin laughed, “Ah, eager to learn, are we? Come along then.” Taking the new Elder arm-in-arm, DragonClaw paused before walking down the Temple stairs, her voice pitched low. “Shadow, I’ll fetch your things from the house. We’ll meet you down at the Hand.”

     Running her fingers through Ulana’s hair, Shadowhyn nodded to the other woman. The pair left, leaving Ulana crying softly into the Bishop’s shoulder atop the Temple stairs. She stood and watched the lightning play over the surface of the Hand, watched the Dark Elves hurry along their business, watched as members of the other races came and went, Dwarves selling their creations, Humans and Orcs meeting and talking with Elves of both colors. After a time, Ulana pulled away from the Bishop.

     Shame had replaced the anger in her eyes, embarrassment the rage in her voice. “Forgive me, Sister,” the Summoner muttered softly.

     Shadowhyn smoothed the Dark Elf’s hair, and kissed her gently on the forehead, “There has been no offense that requires my forgiveness.”

     Ulana looked at the ground, her mouth opening and closing, as she thought of which words to say. The Summoner glanced towards the Village center, her gaze taking in the Hand and the people walking close to it. “We should get to work, Sister.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Let’s head to the School, then.” She held Ulana’s arm, “The sooner we get done, the sooner we can head home.”

     The four gathered at the Hand. Nifii was resplendent in her Karmian, and the silver Widomaker hanging by its strap over her shoulder glittered dangerously in the lightning’s glow. She held Shadowhyn’s staff in her hands, and the way she carried it seemed as if the staff was made from stone. She grimaced slightly as she held it out to the Bishop, and was shocked when the smaller woman lofted it easily with one hand.

     “Wha-What was that about?” She asked, eyeing the staff quizzically. DragonClaw carried several shoulder bags and Ulana’s sheathed swords over one shoulder, and began handing the items to their owners.

     Shadowhyn blinked, surprised by the Elder’s question. “Oh, I’m sorry Nifii,” The Bishop began, hefting the staff in both hands, “As you continue to grow in Power, you will gain the concentration and the techniques required to utilize a more powerful Focus, as well.” She shifted its weight to one hand as she slipped the shoulder bag the Paladin handed her over her head and shoulder. “Until you’re strong enough, however, a staff or sword beyond your ability to wield will be an incredible burden… Both mentally and physically.”

     Shadowhyn looked at her staff, as if seeing it for the first time, then back at Nifii, “And for one weaker than yourself, this may be impossible to move or even lift.” The Elder nodded slowly, suddenly feeling quite young again.

     “Well,” Shadowhyn said, taking in the other three women, “Are we ready to leave?” Nods all around signaled their readiness, “Alright then… uh… Ula, could you lead the way?” A hint of red crept to the Bishop’s cheeks, “I’m not exactly sure where the School… ah… is.” DragonClaw smiled, as did Nifii.

     Ulana laughed, her eyes sparkling again. “No need to be ashamed, Sister.” Ulana hugged the Bishop, then turned towards the Eastern Tunnel. “This way, please.”

     The journey to the School was rather uneventful, aside from Shadowhyn stumbling into a group of Balor Orcs. One other time, a spider had decided Nifii would be a delicious breakfast; it changed its mind rather quickly when Ulana speared it with her gaze.

     The winding path they walked, framed on either side by tall husks of trees, the branches stretched towards the sky, soon widened as it opened onto the School’s field. A row of pillars, black marbled with white or silver accents, and shaped with hard edged angles, lined the path as it neared the School proper. A small building, the walls made of glass, supported by spider-web-thin girders and flying buttresses, loomed at the southern end of a foundation possibly four times as long as it was wide. The building itself was perhaps two stories high, the floors and ceilings also seeming to have been made of glass. It had the feel of an aviary, quite like the one Shadowhyn had visited in Giran several weeks before. Several more buildings like it were scattered across the foundation, straddling pits carved in a maze-like pattern deep into the rock.

     The wide entrance opened to a Hall, with staircases and rooms lining its length. Being able to see clear through the building was disconcerting, as Shadowhyn tried to grasp where one room ended and the next began. Ulana led the party forward, coming to a ramp heading downward, deep into the School’s foundation.

     Seeing the confusion on Shadowhyn’s face, Ulana spoke, “What we really mean when we refer to the School are the catacombs beneath it.” Shadowhyn nodded, still not quite understanding, but willing to accept the Summoner’s answer.

     The Bishop exhaled, and hefted her staff in one hand. “Let us descend, then.”

    

*****


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

     Walking the wide ramp leading into the School, Shadowhyn paused on a landing. The floor of the landing was made from a mesh of metals, the crisscrossing pattern filigreed with gold and silver. Looking down, the Bishop could see a great room, the floor of which was perhaps fifty spans or more beneath her feet. An unexpected wave of vertigo swept over the woman, and her knees buckled. Falling backward, the woman lunged for the solid stone of the ramp; her eyes squeezed shut to avoid looking at the floor far beneath the grated landing. Nifii and DragonClaw, walking behind the Summoner and the Bishop, gasped when Shadowhyn fell.

     Ulana turned, and bit back a laugh. “Oh Shadow! The look on your face…” The Dark Elf crouched next to her friend, who was breathing heavy and looking around with her eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” Ula brushed the red hair away from the Bishop’s face, “I forgot to tell you about the landings.”

     Nifii whispered to DragonClaw, “ _Is she afraid of heights?_ ” The Paladin nodded, and extended her hand to the Bishop.

     “Come along now,” the Guild Leader said, pulling the woman off the ground, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Shadowhyn balked at the edge of the landing, but Ulana and DragonClaw held both of her arms and began walking her across.

     The Bishop laughed, “I’m so pitiful, sorry— _ah!_ ” She tried to keep from looking down, but her eyes drifted of their own accord. Shadowhyn clenched them shut, and trusted her Guild Sisters to see her across.

     At the bottom of the ramp, a hall stretched beyond for about fifty paces. Great carvings of Shilen adorned the walls, faded tapestries and wall-hangings similarly decorated hung from pillars and torch-mounts on the walls. The hall itself gently sloped downward, and along the sides of the room ran additional ramps that sloped downward in the opposite direction, leading farther below the ground. Shadowhyn brushed the dust from her skirt, pausing to lick her thumb and rub at a particularly stubborn spot on the white lace. “Alright,” She said, looking about, “Let’s get started. DragonClaw, take point, please. We’ll investigate every room we come across.” The Paladin nodded, and headed for the ramp on the right side.

     “What are we looking for?” Nifii asked, stretching slightly before hefting her polearm with both hands.

     “I’m really not sure,” Shadowhyn dug through her bag, pulling out the letter from the High Priest. “My instructions are to find the reason, if any, of the ‘higher than normal Undead presence’.” She folded the letter and placed it back into her shoulder bag, “But I’m not sure _what_ exactly we’re looking for… I’m hoping I’ll recognize it when we see it.” Nifii nodded. Ulana, having been carrying her sheaths over her shoulder, paused to strap them on her back. Arranging the sheaths so that the edges of the swords faced inward, the Summoner strapped the slightly curved blades crossing her back, with the hilts down below her hips. She stretched, readjusted the straps, then reached back and pulled the leather drawstrings holding the swords in the scabbards. Loosed, the swords slid down into her hands, where she held them to her sides, at the ready.

     “Now, don’t be afraid to defend yourselves, of course.” The Bishop said absentmindedly as she secured her shoulder bag to her hip, “But if at all possible, I’d like to examine any Undead for clues.” Her companions nodded, and followed the Paladin down the ramp.

     Dust covered every horizontal surface this deep in the School; it had been years since a large group of students had been here for training, Ulana had said. Due to the lengthy life-cycles of the Drow, the catacombs spent long decades without any venturing beneath the surface. A thin vapor drifted at knee-height, a cloud of moisture undisturbed by all but the mid-day sun, leaving the surfaces that it touched glistening in the torch-light.

     Hours had past since first entering the School. The sun was still low in the sky, not yet illuminating the School’s catacombs; only when it sat directly overhead would the party be able to stow their torch. Until then, the Paladin would lead the group forward in the near-dusk. The dark bothered neither of the Dark Elves; to both Ulana and Nifii, there was light enough in the darkened hallways that they could have read a book. Their amber eyes glistened in the dark, glowing a golden yellow as they gathered what light was available. The humans needed the torch-light, the Paladin holding it high as they walked the dusty corridors. The runes inscribed into the Bishop’s staff glowed a faint yellow, the effect of some Sacred spell the red-haired woman had muttered quietly; the light gave her some confidence as she walked, as she was prone to stumble.

     Shadowhyn coughed, the dust stirred by their footsteps clogged her throat. Room after room they had searched, stilling the Undead that lurked, and then waiting for several minutes as the Bishop concentrated on the remains. Cleansing the corpses and piles of bones took time, and the sheer number of the Undead made Shadowhyn wonder how long it would take. She was getting tired; while the prey they sought fell easily enough to blade and spell, the complex patterns of the Cleansing were beginning to take their toll on her mental reserves. A low, faint headache had seated itself behind the Bishop’s eyes, and even having stopped to rest for a while hadn’t seemed to help, as the groups of Undead had begun to appear more and more frequently. 

     Shadowhyn walked behind the other three women, lost in thought as she considered what they had learned so far. _Nothing,_ she thought bitterly to herself, _so far nothing out of the ordinary linking the Undead to one another._ She had searched each animated corpse for the tell-tale signs of what caused the re-quickening, and each time the signs led nowhere. _An absence is more like it._ The Bishop frowned, her forehead wrinkling. She walked on, ignoring most of her surroundings.

     DragonClaw held up a fist—the signal to halt—and peered forward into the gloom. The corridor they walked ended several feet ahead, opening into a wide room, perhaps twenty feet to a side. In the middle of the room rose a wall, stretching ten to twelve feet from the floor to its upper edge. Covering this side of the wall, the Paladin noted, was another gilded scene depicting a single Dark Elf fighter facing off a dozen or more opponents. From this distance the woman couldn’t see where the Undead were in the room, but she could hear the soft moans of the ghouls and the _click-clack_ footsteps of the skeletons.

     “Sounds like ten or more,” Ulana stepped close to the Paladin’s shoulder, peering into the darkness. “I can barely make out a cluster over there.” The Summoner pointed, indicating the left half of the room. DragonClaw nodded. Turning to face the others, she spoke quietly, “Alright, I’ll go in and pull them close. You all do your thing.” Winking to Nifii and Ulana, the Paladin grinned. The Guild Leader loosened her axe from the loop at her belt, and stopped as Nifii gasped. Whirling to see behind her, the Paladin’s eyes grew wide.

     Shadowhyn strode into the room, still looking down at the floor and muttering to herself. Walking up to the wall, the Bishop raised her staff with one hand, casting its light onto the stone to inspect the gilded carving. A steady _clack-clack-clack_ drifted from the room. “Shadow!” Ulana called, slipping her swords from her back. The Bishop turned to face the three women, “What Sister?” She looked back at them, confusion etched on her face. “What is it?”

     The ghostly white of a sun-bleached skeleton leapt from the darkness and lunged at the Bishop. Shadowhyn cried out in surprise and pain as the reanimated skeleton shoved her back against the wall. She ducked under its fist; the punch landed on the carved scene where her head had been, and cracked the stone where it struck.

     “Watch out!” DragonClaw yelled, sprinting into the room. Rounding the side of the wall, a group of four skeletons bore down on the Bishop. The Paladin planted her feet, and concentrated; she formed a void in her mind, and poured anger and hatred into the empty sphere. Glowing briefly, the Paladin shouted, “I’m over here!” picturing the void swallowing the skeletons as well. A sphere of blue light arced towards the skeletons, capturing them in its glow. They slowed their advance toward Shadowhyn, then turned and ran towards the Paladin. DragonClaw stood her ground, waiting until the Undead were within reach, then ducked under her shield.

     Nifii stepped behind the Guild Leader, her Widowmaker carving a silver blur through the air over the Paladin’s head. Metal broke and shattered bone in an arc that swallowed all the attacking skeletons, tearing skulls and rib-cages from the Undead. Ulana ran to help Shadowhyn to her feet.

     “What were you thinking?” Ulana’s tone demanded an answer.

     “I’m sorry Sister, I… I wasn’t paying attention.” Shadowhyn’s face, pale from fear and surprise, began to bloom red in embarrassment.

     “There’s still more,” DragonClaw called, “come back this way.” A faint _click-clack_ echoed in the dark, then a shrill whistle streaked towards the Paladin. An arrow buried itself in DragonClaw’s shield with a _thunk_ , and Nifii ducked behind the armored woman as more arrows whistled past. Shadowhyn dropped to the floor behind the wall, covering her head with her hands. “Careful!” DragonClaw called as Ulana sprinted towards the archer.

     The Summoner disappeared into the dark; her footsteps punctuated by yet more whistles and _cracks_ as arrows splintered into the floor and walls. Ulana could see the skeleton clearly, even in the dimness that blinded her human friends. Drawing close to the archer, she ducked as it loosed another arrow at her face, and swung her swords. The first sword caught the bow-arm of the archer, splintering the bone and cutting through the wooden bow shaft. Dodging the flying wood—cutting the bow had caused the taut bowstring to fling the pieces apart—Ulana thrust upward, piercing the skeleton’s jaw and pushing up into the skull. Twisting her sword served to break the skull free of the neck, and Ulana pivoted, bringing her other blade down through the skeleton’s torso. She glanced around, breathing heavily, looking for additional threats.

     All DragonClaw could see of Ulana was the glittering gold of her eyes, glowing in the darkness. “Any more?” the Paladin asked. Ulana shook her head. Nifii laughed at that, and Ulana grinned sheepishly.

     “No, no more bones,” the Summoner called back, laughing to herself. Stopping next to the Bishop, who sat on the floor, her legs pulled up to her chest, Ulana kneeled. “Are you alright, Shad?”

     The Bishop nodded, her face still red with embarrassment. “There are ghouls, yet,” Shadowhyn said quietly, tracing her finger along the floor’s dusty stone. She looked up at the other three, “I’ll take care of them, you all rest.” She cast her eyes back to the floor, “Sorry about that.”

     Standing, the Bishop rubbed her shoulder and groaned. _That’ll be a nasty bruise_ Shadowhyn thought idly. She was standing before the wall that stood in the center of the room; the skeletons had come from the left-most side of the room. _To the right, then,_ Shadowhyn thought to herself. She turned to face the other side of the room, as the other three women sat on the floor to rest. Grasping her staff with both hands, the woman chanted softly; light bloomed bright from her staff as the runes blazed with a yellow glow. A ghoul, hidden in the darkness before her, continued its slow shambling limp towards the woman. It growled at the sudden brightness, air bubbling from its partially ruined throat. Softer moans and growls echoed it from the darkness farther beyond.

     To anyone, really, ghouls were a frightening sight. Long dead, the corpses had begun rotting and falling to pieces before being reanimated; the skin turned green with age, and great holes in the muscle showed glistening white bones. A ghoul fortunate enough—if “fortunate” was the right word—to still have working vocal cords was limited to mere moans and growls, while the rest were left with wheezes or complete silence. The sight of a ghoul was enough to set even the strongest man on edge, and Shadowhyn was no exception.

     The flame-haired woman swallowed, trying to push her nervousness down. _How many times have you done this?_ She had lost count. _You’ve done this before!_ She nodded, a grim smile on her face. She _had_ done this before. The Bishop raised her staff, and pointed it towards the ghoul’s head. It continued its slow, shambling limp forward, ignoring the length of wood she held towards it. She almost laughed at the simplicity of it. _That’s it… just one more step…_

     The ghoul’s face touched the end of Shadowhyn’s staff. “Sleep, my child,” the Bishop whispered as a white-hot glow pulsed from her hands into the aged wood, before leaping from the staff. Enveloping the ghoul, the light roiled and burned, blazed bright as the sun, and faded away. The corpse, no longer moving of itself, fell to the floor at the Bishop’s feet. She crouched next to the corpse, one hand holding her staff, and the palm of her other hand resting on the corpse’s forehead. _See the signs, now, feel for the flows..._ She had done this numerous times, testing the magic that moved the ghoul for what little information it held. Shadowhyn gasped, closed her eyes tightly, and turned her head to one side, as if listening.

     The other ghouls continued their slow march towards the Bishop; Shadowhyn stayed crouched by the corpse, her brow wrinkled in concentration. “Shad?” Nifii started to stand.

     The Bishop shook her finger, “No,” then held out her palm, “Wait there, please.”

     The Elder looked at Shadowhyn, still unconcerned with the approaching ghouls, and turned to her companions. Ulana sat cross-legged on the dusty stone, eyes closed. DragonClaw lounged back against the wall, idly tossing the flaming torch from hand to hand. “Should we?” DragonClaw shook her head, answering Nifii’s question.

     “Got it!” Shadowhyn sounded triumphant, a renewed strength in her voice. She looked towards the others, grinning. “This one had a connection, I think I can—”

     “Shadow!” Nifii interrupted, pointing behind the Bishop. Three ghouls were within reach of the Bishop, the closest with its arms outstretched. It growled, its darkened eyes flashing with hatred. Shadowhyn’s staff flickered; a bright roaring blaze of holy fire rained from the sky, consuming the trio of ghouls. The Bishop stood, looking around for any remaining threats. One last ghoul, hideous in the flickering fire-light of its still-burning companions, never slowed as it stepped over the corpses between it and Shadowhyn. Once again, she held her staff toward the ghoul; it walked into the length of wood, and was consumed by the white-hot glow.

     Shadowhyn turned to her companions, lightly brushing the dust from her skirt. Nifii stared, dazzled by the display of raw Holy magic. Ulana barely opened her eyes to look at the Bishop before closing them again. “Are you ready to go, Sister?” the Summoner questioned.

     Shadowhyn sat down next to Nifii, and rubbed the Elder’s shoulder. “Aye. I felt a vague connection in that first ghoul, and I think it pointed to the north.”

     DragonClaw nodded before speaking, “Do you need to rest, Shad?”

     The Bishop shook her head, “No, after finally finding a trail, I’m too excited to rest.”

     Ulana grinned and opened her eyes, “Let’s get a move on, then.”

     To the Bishop’s eyes, not much had changed the deeper they went into the School. The same carvings decorated the walls—though both Ulana and Nifii swore there were differences—and the floor and walls were carved or assembled from the same patterned stone. The only change Shadowhyn could see was the humidity that dampened her arms and legs, soaking her tunic and skirt. She had fond memories of when it had been merely an ankle-high mist, and threatened only her boots with a bit of moisture. The sun was high in the sky, and DragonClaw had long since packed away the torch. Only a few clouds were sprinkled across the sky; unless one happened to be blocking the sun, the four women were sweating from the steady gaze of the sun.

     Several more rooms had been cleared, as well as long winding corridors littered with the walking Dead. Nothing more than a faint connection, a dim pulling that tugged gently at the corner of Shadowhyn’s mind, could be found in the Undead that they laid to rest. She could tell that the connection was stronger than it had been. It had perhaps doubled or tripled in strength so far… but it was still faint enough to have been imagined, if _El-Un-Silhouette_ hadn’t confirmed it. Being summoned from the shadows, Ulana’s familiars could sense the dark magic driving the Undead with a stark clarity that the Bishop could only wish for. They could only sense it, however. Deciphering and interpreting the threads that formed the strings of magic were far beyond their battle-focused intellects.

     With a sigh, Shadowhyn knelt next to Nifii’s latest addition to the bones littering the floor. Rocking slightly on her toes, the Bishop held the skull in both hands, gently rubbing its cracked and pitted surface with her thumbs. She brushed sweat from her brow with a sleeve, and returned her attention to the grinning thing she held in her hands. Ulana leaned against the wall, her swords hanging in their sheaths, breathing deeply of the damp air. DragonClaw, suffering more than the others in her heavy plated armor, sought shade under an overhang made from yet another intricately carved frieze that dominated the hallway. 

     Nifii was still energetic from her Entitlement ceremony, and looked around eagerly for any additional Undead. The silver Widowmaker, still glistening bright in the mid-day sun, danced in her hands as she strode the length of the corridor. It was an almost ungainly weapon; a thick silver haft as tall as the Dark Elf, bound with leather in the center to ensure proper grip, with a strangely shaped head. Almost like a large claw-hammer, there was a heavy weighted half-sphere on one side of the head providing balance for the jaggedly serrated conical point that jutted a good pace or more on the opposite side of the Widowmaker head. The point was good for piercing plate armor, but Nifii had found the blunt end preferable for cracking skulls.

     Fanning herself, DragonClaw asked the Bishop, “Sense anything?”

     Tilting her head to one side, as if listening to something far away, the red-haired woman nodded slowly. “Yes… I think…” Her voice trailed off for a minute, “I think it’s stronger now.” Dropping the skull onto the rough paving stone, Shadowhyn held her palm over the bones. A flash of light and a muffled _crunch_ left the skull and the bones close to it scattered across the floor in a billow of powder. Dusting off her hands, the Bishop stood, “It is stronger.” She looked to the Paladin, “We’re getting closer, now.”

     Shadowhyn looked to the Summoner. Ulana was gazing up and down the corridor, brow furrowed in thought. “What’s wrong, Sister?” The Bishop stepped to the Dark Elf’s side.

     “Oh…” The Summoner coughed, “Nothing. This corridor seems… familiar to me.”

     The Bishop smiled, “Maybe you were here during your trials.”

     The frown on Ulana’s face deepened, “Yes… perhaps I was.” A breeze filtered down to the depths of the School, easing the humidity and heat for just a moment. Ulana shivered; the air was still hot, but a faint memory sent chills through her body. _Have I been here before?_ The Summoner certainly felt as if she had. She glanced at her hands, and shivered at a half-seen vision. _Should there be blood on my hands?_

     Shadowhyn watched her Dark Elf friend, a worried look on her face. Ulana smiled, and held her hands up, “I’m alright Shadow… I’m alright.” The Bishop narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow. Ulana had to laugh; Shadowhyn only made that look when she was positive someone was lying to her face, but couldn’t offer a shred of proof.

     The Bishop grinned, her green eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. “As long as you’re _sure_ ,” she said, raising her eyebrow again, giving the Summoner ample time to come clean.

     “Well,” the Bishop looked down the corridor, “If we keep heading to the north, I think we’ll find where the strings are pointing.” The four women, keeping to the shade as much as possible, resumed their walk. The corridor came to an end, but a large ornate passageway had been cut through the stone to the right. The hallways and corridors they walked were deep trenches carved into the foundation of the School of the Dark Arts; this passageway seemed to lead under the surface of the foundation itself, where all the rooms previous had been open to the sky.

     Ducking into the cool dark of the shaded passageway, the women stopped for a moment. DragonClaw pulled a water skin from her shoulder bag, and took a few sips as she leaned against the wall. Shadowhyn looked around in the dark, and muttered a short incantation. Her staff’s runes blazed with a yellow glow, casting light into the passageway. Farther down the passage, a bright sun-drenched opening looked as if it led to another set of open-air corridors; on the left and right sides of the passage, decorated walls stretched with no other discernable markings.

     Ulana and Nifii took the lead, their eyes glowing a burnished gold as they stalked into the dark. The human women trailed after, examining the passage they walked. Ulana gasped in surprise, and Shadowhyn and DragonClaw ran to her side. An ornately carved doorway in the side of the passage stood open, two massively wide steel doors thrown against the walls. Inside the room sunlight filtered through from the surface. The hall they entered stood directly beneath one of the delicate glass-and-steel structures that dotted the foundation. The walls—carved with fluted pillars and balconies—towered above their heads a good fifty spans or more, casting deep shadows. The sunlight shone brightly through the glass suspended far above, casting hazy, indistinct shapes across the floor and the statue before them.

     The squared hall was dominated by a statue of Shilen, a fiercely beautiful female—the torso with six arms brandishing time- and weather-worn items—atop a sinuous serpent’s tail. The gold and jade decorating the lower serpentine shape glinted in the sunlight, the lustrous green shimmering brightly where the golden ridges gathered the light. Two large censers burned on either side of the statue, the brilliant blue flames nearly lost in the sun’s bright gaze. With the statue’s intense presence in the shrine, Shadowhyn almost missed noticing the lone male Dark Elf sitting cross-legged on the floor, lost in meditation.

     He was a mage, or so his attire implied; the deep burgundy and stark blacks of his robes marked him as probably being a Spellhowler. A purple staff, gilt and topped with what appeared to be a great unblinking eye, lay on the floor before him.

     Ulana and Nifii raised their hands before their faces, palms together, and closed their eyes in prayer. Shadowhyn looked at DragonClaw; the Paladin shrugged. Ulana silently crossed the floor, and took a seat on the dry, cracked stone next to the Dark Elf. Nifii motioned to the others to follow, and settled down on the floor on the other side of the male Drow. DragonClaw looked at Shadowhyn; the Bishop shrugged. Without a word, the humans crossed the floor, and took a seat behind the three Dark Elves.

     Inhaling deeply, the male Dark Elf lifted his head, and looked at the four sitting around him. Seeing DragonClaw, a wide grin spread across his face. “Shilen must favor you,” Traltixx’s respectful tone reverberated in the shadows, “as She has brought you safely thus far.”

     

***

     

     The pleasantries did not last for long, Traltixx’s usual brusque mannerisms grating on the women’s nerves. Ulana sensed something else was bothering him, and pulled him aside for a private conversation.

     “How are you, brother?” Ulana said, looking to the male Drow. Her blue skirt caught the pale light from the fire, giving herself a ghostly look.

     “I sense something here, that same presence we felt before... back then.” Traltixx’s eyes caught the light revealing the blood-like tint in his golden eyes. It had been long since the two had spoken; the male had left the Guild shortly after his trials, to seek meditation under the Tetrearch to hone his skills. He lifted his staff, blood still seeping through the bandages wrapped around his hands.

     She saw his hands, “You have been working with the winds too ferociously... I—”

     “Don’t avoid the subject Ulana; you never were good at dealing with problems head on.” Traltixx said to the abashed Drow, her face turning a slight red from embarrassment.

     “Do not chide me! I am older than you; do not forget your place!” Ulana shot back with a steely glare. And was met with a colder one. “I sense it, yes.” the Summoner said wringing her hands, “It is there, my servitors feel it as well.” She looked back at the others who glanced over uncertainly at the two dark elves, resting in near darkness in a corner of the shrine room.

     “They worry about you, do not leave them in the torrent of the hurricane, not seeing,” Traltixx put a bandaged hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “you will find what this... ‘presence’ is... but in the meantime, you must not leave your friends to suffer silently in worry.”

     A tear rolled down Ulana’s cheek, “I will not let anyone else suffer because of me, brother, I cannot! There is—” her eyes burned a bright yellow for an instant. A bluish light silhouetted those present as a tetragram flared into existence beneath her. She coughed, ragged, her right arm engulfed in the blue light as well. Dark lettering wrapped itself around her arm flowing from inside her blue coat. Her eyes widened as the lettering glowed then vanished. A vortex opened behind her, a dark tunnel visible inside the swirling winds.

     “Ula—” Nifii started to speak before a dark figure rose up from the opening in the ground.

     The shadows around Ulana writhed together, forming the floating figure behind her. Chains rattled in the fresh silence as _El-Unas-Shadow_ floated menacingly over Ulana’s shoulder. “ _Tura Ulana-Mas, why have you summoned me in this despicable hole.”_

     “Please tell Traltixx what you have felt here, Unas,” Ulana said, carefully. Although Summoners are the masters of their servitors, treating them as anything less than an equal will not end well for the magician. Ulana’s fist tightened when her servitor spoke again.

     “ _Sul’Istar Traltixx, I sense great power in you, I will reveal to you and these... others what I have felt here.”_ The Shadow moved slowly towards the shrine, turning and twisting the air around it as it moved. Its six eyes surveyed the group as it turned to face them. _“There is a dark presence here... darker than me or my companion El-Un... you must leave here at once.”_

     “A ‘dark presence’?” the Bishop repeated.

     Clouds rolled overhead, turning dark against the light sky. They threatened to rain above the travelers, the rank air of the dungeon stinging their noses. Fresh blood mingled with the smell of incense at the altar.

     Ulana’s brow furrowed in slight confusion. _How did the rain…?_

     Shadowhyn stirred, standing and patting the dust from her robes. She laughed, “Well I guess something _is_ wrong down here: we’re about to get soaked.” Nifii giggled.

     “ _This is no joking matter, Fallaner’Ruin, you will die here too.”_

     Ulana’s eyes widened in fear, “What do you me—”

     _“Ulana-Mas, you know exactly of what I speak.”_ Ulana’s face blanched, but she held her tongue. Chains rattled as the servitor shifted its view to examine the Summoner. “ _El-Un will tell you now if you chose not to remember.” El-Unas-Shadow_ guestured toward an empty patch of floor, _“Ignore El-Un’s warnings at your own peril.”_

     Shadowhyn’s eyes widened in shock, “Ulana, can servitors call upon each other?” 

     _“You know nothing of servitors, Fallaner’Ruin.”  
_

     Ulana cried out as the runes across her left arm glowed a fiery scarlet across her skin. Blood poured from her arm as she heaved, the blue portal opened again behind her. “No... please!” she sobbed as the world started to fade before her.  


***

     

     _~~Ulana~~ _ _...  
_

     _Heart beating blood... Ulana looks down at her hands, the blood coursing through her arms, flowing freely from the openings in them...  
_

     _~~Ulana~~ _ _..._ ~~come~~ _...  
_

     _Shadowhyn screamed as Ulana’s sword buried itself in her side, the scarlet blood pooling itself on the floor. A manical laugh escaped the Drow’s lips as...  
_

     _~~Come~~ _ _... ~~to~~...  
_

     _Nifii hung limp at the edge of her blade. She hadn’t yelled in fright, her amber eyes glazed over as she stared unseeing into the dark sky...  
_

     ~~Kill~~ _... ~~them~~...  
_

     _DragonClaw spun as she struggled to avoid the... shadows seething around her. She stumbled as her foot was caught in nothingness... pulling down...  
_

     _~~kill~~ _ _... ~~them~~ _ ~~all~~ _...  
_

     _“SHINOA!” Ulana screamed running foward. The dark figure pulled away leaving her younger sister to fall to the ground. Her throat gashed, the crimson blood..._  


***

     

     Fear and shame bit deep into her stomach, churning and twisting into knots. As much as she loved her Guild Sister, Shadowhyn could never quite deal with her unreasonable fear of _El-Un-Silhouette_. As soon as the floor blistered at the arrival of _El-Un_ , the red-haired woman found her legs frozen. Even had danger demanded it, the Bishop didn’t think she would have been able to move. Not even when Ulana collapsed… Cheeks burning a red to match her hair, Shadowhyn ground her teeth and slowly put one foot forward, then the other, shame pushing her onward.

     “ _No, Shinoa…_ ” Ulana moaned softly, eyes twitching madly behind closed eyelids, tears streaming down her face. Blood still oozed from the glowing symbols wrapping around her arms; Shadowhyn knew that Phantom Summoners had to pay a blood-price when calling their familiars, but the bleeding should have stopped by now. _Is it from Shadow and Silhouette coming of their own volition? Or is it from both being here at once?_

     Nifii looked up from where she was kneeling next to the Summoner. Worry creased her face; she glared from the corner of her eyes at Traltixx, who sat watching impassively. Raking her gaze over the two servitors who flanked the Spellhowler, the Elder’s eyes softened when they turned to Shadowhyn. Her voice was a hoarse whisper, “She’s bleeding, and I can’t seem to stop it.”

     The Bishop nodded, taking deep breaths to calm herself. “Thank you Nifii.” _Forgive me Sister, I was afraid…_

     Nifii wiped her hands on a bit of cloth she pulled from her shoulder bag, “If you’ll excuse me, Shad.” The young Dark Elf squared her jaw, and marched over to the Spellhowler as Shadowhyn mumbled a reply. The Bishop turned her attention back to Ulana; furious questions and placid responses followed by the sound of Nifii slapping Traltixx washed over the woman’s thoughts. _What can I do?_

     Kneeling at Ulana’s head, Shadowhyn laid her staff across her knees, placing her elbows across the rough aged wood, and gently touched fingertips to the Summoner’s forehead. Softly chanting, the Bishop’s staff began to glow a faint yellow as she concentrated on helping her Sister. She groaned when her gentle Sacred touch was forcibly severed, the backlash like a slap across her mind.

     _“Do not disturb Ulana-Mas, Edan Amandil,” t_ he rumble of _Un-Silhouette_ in her mind, more than her ears, startled her enough to make her cry out. She clapped a hand over her mouth as her cheeks flushed a bright red once more, and turned to find _Unas-Shadow_ and _Un-Silhouette_ directly behind her. Startled again, Shadowhyn fell to the ground at Ulana’s shoulder.

     “ _Fallaner’Ruin cannot help Ulana-Mas right now, nor Fallaner’Khelek,” Unas-Shadow_ ’s higher pitched growl continued, “ _Ulana-Mas is seeing what she must see.”_

     _El-Un-Silhouette_ agreed, _“Edan Amandil must not wake her until she sees all.”_

     Shivering, Shadowhyn scrambled to her knees again, her mind working furiously as she tried to form a coherent question. “Can I… bandage... her arms, at least?” She gestured towards the Summoner’s body, “Your inscriptions, the _jitai_ are still bleeding.” At _Un-Silhouette_ ’s wave of dismissal, Shadowhyn hurriedly started pulling rolls of bandages from her shoulder bag.

     Nifii spun back toward the servitors, rubbing a palm bright-red from impact. A finger thrust in their direction began the Dark Elf’s verbal assault. “…and what do you two think you’re doing, coalescing without being summoned? And _still_ taking your blood-price too! I’ve never heard of such inso—”

     _Unas-Shadow_ ’s snarl of displeasure disrupted Nifii’s train of thought just long enough to let _Un-Silhouette_ interrupt completely. “ _Insolence from one so young will not be tolerated, Tel’gothrim Amandil. And as for our actions, who here can question us? Do not be so rash as to think we must divulge Ulana-Mas’ visions. If Ulana-Mas deems Nim’ohtar or Edan Amandil worthy of conversation, then that is her choice. We coalesce as we will… perhaps the next time you request our assistance we shall think otherwise?”_

     The shrine grew quiet, but for the Summoner’s sobs and moans.

     

***

     

     _“Ulana? Ula, can you hear me?”_

     _Ulana breathed in sharply, gasping for breath. Her vision wavered in front of her, her clothes clinging to her body with sweat. The stones felt cold beneath her, but she couldn’t remember collapsing on the floor. Her head was throbbing, she could feel... something... Something was inside her... it was pulsing..._

     _“Ula?”_

     _“What?!... ugh... my head...” Ulana said holding her head, brushing her silvery hair away from her face. She could feel her_ jitai _pulsing... unnaturally. The world looked foggy around her... she could see her friends... they looked hazy, their shadows swimming around them... as if alive._

     _“Ulana... are you alright?” DragonClaw’s voice stretched above her, concern creasing her face. She couldn’t see her friend’s face clearly, there were... shadows... flowing around her. Suddenly a feeling gripped her._

     _“DragonClaw... move aw—” her hand flew forward, pulling at the threads of shadow around her. Her hands moved of their own accord, and Ulana felt lost as a... presence seized her. El-Unas flowed forward, its face stone cold as its claws sped to the young Paladin’s throat. DragonClaw spun away, ripping her axe free of its scabbard. Confusion enveloped her face as she weaved around El-Unas’s agile claws._

     _“Ulana!?! What are you—”_

     _Ulana’s other hand whipped out, once again grabbing at the shadows around herself, motioning towards the younger Drow. El-Un vanished, melting into the floor. Nifii screamed as her feet began to sink into the floor, her own shadow seeming to envelop her, as she struggled against the Silhouette’s binding spell. Her body went limp as her energy was drained from her body; she fell limp, unmoving, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Ulana could still not see properly, she felt pain, but from afar. She stared impassively at Nifii’s limp body, the blood drained from it, her eyes staring at the nothingness of sky._

     _“_ Ulana! _How coul—”_

     _Shadowhyn leapt into her vision, grabbing her shoulders tightly, fear and rage mixed in her face. Her blue tunic seemed... hazy in Ulana’s vision, there were... shadows... “How could you!? Why?_ Why?! _” Shadowhyn’s sobs rocked the Drow’s ears, threatening to engulf her._

     _“Stay... away…” Ulana could feel... the... presence inside her... Her hands moved of their own mind again, ripping away the Bishop’s hands in a steel grip. The red-haired woman’s face contorted in pain, tears rolling down her cheeks._

     _“Ula?” Shadowhyn asked with a confused look on her face, as the Dark Elf let go. Her hands moved too quickly... the Bishop could not stop them from wrapping around her throat in a vice grip. Shadowhyn’s eyes went wide with fright, as she struggled to loosen herself from her Guild Sister’s iron grip. Ulana could feel something inside her... laughing... as the Bishop’s body went stiff..._

     _“_ Ulana! _”_

     

***

     

     _“Ulana?! What are you—”_

     _…the eyes, staring..._

     _“Ula...”_

     _“Nifii... run...”_

     _…she was crying, the hands tightening around her..._

     _“Ula... help m—”_

     _…the shadows took her Shadowhyn in their grasp... swallowing her..._

     

_***_

     

     “NO!!”

     Shadowhyn pulled her hands sharply away from Ulana to avoid being hit by her flailing arms. Ulana gasped in air fitfully, eyes wide from what she had just... seen, over and over again. Tear’s brimmed and spilled over onto her gray cheeks. “Sha... Shadowhyn!?”

     “Here sister, here” Shadowhyn said pulling the Drow close to her.

     Ulana sobbed slowly at her breast, stroking her skirts slowly. She shook as she sobbed slowly... “S-safe?... you’re still—”

     “Hush, Ula, I’m here, its ok.”

     Nifii and DragonClaw looked on uncertainly, Nifii’s hand covering her mouth in shock. “Is she alright?” the young Elder said, approaching slowly.

     “ _She has merely seen what she needs to see Tel’gothrim Amandil_ ,” El-Un said, the misty wind blowing its dark tendrils. The silence stretched on as the clouds gathered overhead.

     “How could you...” the travelers’ eyes widened as the Summoner turning to the servitors in rage. “You have overstepped your boundaries! Your contract with me states—”

     “ _It states that you command us... and nothing against us showing you the right path,”_ El-Unas said, the rattling of its chain echoing in the shrine. The servitors started to fade, their time in the world beginning to unravel. “ _We have spent little time here, but enough to show you what is possible... of this darkness which is in you._ ”

     “ _Do not succumb to the darkness Ulana-Mas... to let it consume is the path... which you must not take.”_

     The only sound that remained was the closing of the summoning gate. Ulana brushed the hair from her face; matted with sweat, some of the blood from her _jitai_ had stained the pale strands. No matter, though. There was always time for cleaning up after their mission was complete. Wiping tears from her face, Ulana froze as she noticed a familiar feeling. _That pulling again!_ She glanced around, peering into the dark shadows of the room. The floor at her feet still pulsed a faint blue, the residue of the summoning gates resonating with her Power. Some of the smoke, tinged blue and white from the wild summoning magic, drifted around the room… no, not drifting.

     The Summoner watched for a moment more, before nodding to herself. Shadowhyn placed a hand on Ulana’s shoulder, and asked quietly, “Sister, are you alright?”

     Ulana nodded, absently, and muttered, “Just a moment… I think…” The flows became apparent then. Pulling at the loose shadow threads lingering around the gateways, Ulana wove them into a tight spiral. The blue and white smoke swirled and gathered, turning and twisting into a line leading to the shrine’s far wall. Stalking along the smoke, Ulana came to the stone wall and watched.

     The blue haze drifted to the wall and pooled along the stone. Crouching, the Summoner looked to the bottom of the smoke; hurriedly she turned and motioned to the others. “Quickly now! Look at this.” Once the three had gathered behind her, Ulana pointed at the cracks and crevices between several of the stones in the wall. “Watch the smoke.”

     DragonClaw sucked in a breath in surprise, “It’s being pulled through the wall?” Nifii and Shadowhyn watched in curiosity as the Paladin felt along the protruding stones.

     “Yes, I think it’s a passageway of some kind.” Ulana said, “Careful Sister, there may be wards.”

     DragonClaw pulled her hands away quickly and nodded, “I felt an almost tingle… like a buzzing sensation.”

     Ulana nodded, and tapped a finger on her lips. “I think I can disable the warding.” The Summoner traced a glowing Pattern into the air above the blue-white smoke; thin tendrils of bluish-white were drawn to the Pattern which slowly rotated in the air, parallel to the wall.

     Carefully drawing more of the smoke into her Pattern, Ulana gently pushed it towards the hidden passageway entrance. Coming into contact with the wall, the Pattern flared bright white and dissipated in a cloud of white sparks. Shadowhyn tilted her head, and asked quietly “Was it supposed to do that?”

     Ulana nodded and motioned for silence. “Any second now…”

     The sparkling points of white light drifted slowly back toward the floor… but some halted in their fall. Slowly the outline of a Construct emerged in the shining points of light, hanging in the air, glittering like dew on a spider-web in the early morning sun. Ulana grinned, mirthless, and drew the edge of her hand through lines of the Construct like a knife. “That should do it,” she said as she severed one last line, causing the ward to collapse, the points of light sparkling as they drifted to the floor.

     The wall shimmered as thick cracks appeared outlining a door perhaps a pace wide and two paces tall. Pushing on the stone, DragonClaw was surprised to find it swung in easily, the section of wall rotating to fit into a recess in the passage. Unlit torches lined the carved passageway, but a faint light glimmered around a curve farther down the sloping path. Shadowhyn gulped rather audibly, and Ulana hid a smile. “After you,” the Paladin said with a grin, motioning the Bishop to the opening.

     Shadowhyn took Ulana’s arm, and pulled the Dark Elf into the passageway to walk alongside herself. _It’s not that I’m afraid… I just can’t bear to lose sight of Ula now,_ the red-haired woman thought to herself as she tapped her staff on the rough-cut stone floor, causing the sigils carved into the wood to flare with a golden yellow glow.

     “What was that, Sister?” Ulana’s voice cut into Shadowhyn’s thoughts, and she realized that she’d been thinking out loud.

     The Bishop’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and she fought to keep herself from laughing aloud at herself. “Nothing Ula, just talking to myself… again.” The woman sighed, and looked at the Dark Elf walking next to her. A glance over her shoulder showed Nifii and DragonClaw trailing behind, shadows flickering in the Paladin’s torchlight.

     Turning her gaze back to the Summoner, Shadowhyn continued in a quieter voice. “Are you alright Ulana?” She faltered before asking the next question; she knew that the firmness to Ulana’s jaw, and the increased wrinkles around Ulana’s eyes meant that she didn’t want to talk. Shadowhyn asked anyway, “When you collapsed… what happened?” She laughed ruefully, “Your servitors weren’t exactly friendly. _El-Unas_ almost bit my head off for trying to bandage your arms.” Shadowhyn laughed; it was a humorless, fearful sound that made the Dark Elf believe her friend truly thought _El-Unas_ would have enjoyed biting off her head.

     _Now that I think about it, Unas would have._ Ulana shook her head at the question, and snorted at her thoughts of _El-Unas_. “What I saw, Sister…” She sighed, trying to find the words, “Something I fear more than anything else.”

     Shadowhyn hugged the Summoner’s arm, careful not to put pressure on the bandaged _jitai_ , “I’m here for you, Sister.”

     The vision and its multitude of emotions came crashing onto Ulana’s thoughts, the weight almost overpowering. The sick giddiness of the hunt, and the pleasure of the kill turned her stomach; Ulana felt as if she would lose her breakfast there in the half-dark passageway. Lifting her head and breathing deeply, Ulana concentrated on watching the rough stone ceiling; closing her eyes brought back images she had no wish to see. Sensing the pull of the ward had distracted her enough to ignore the vision… now, with the uncertainty and fear of walking down the just-discovered dark tunnel only amplified the horrors which she had seen.

     Ulana took another deep breath, and sneezed after inhaling part of a cloud of dust that was kicked into the air by their footsteps. Sneezing again made matters worse, as she began to cough. A long-forgotten pain swelled, a burning deep in her gut, and Ulana’s eyes began to tear as she felt as if she’d swallowed the lit torch that DragonClaw carried. Turning her head from Shadowhyn, Ulana coughed into a gloved hand, trying to stop coughing, feeling the slickness between her fingers. _Please let it end!_ As she slowly regained her breath, Ula looked to see blood coating her glove. It was plainly visible to her burnished-gold eyes, but she hoped Shadowhyn couldn’t see. Quickly, she wiped her hand on the side of her shoulder bag, already spotted with blood from when she collapsed.

     The rough-hewn passageway before them sloped downward, and curved slightly to the right. A dim yellow light filtered around the curve, and Shadowhyn crept forward until she reached the edge of the shadows. She held up a fist—DragonClaw’s symbol to stop—and looked back over the party. Whispering softly, she cautioned them, “Alright, let’s go quietly. I don’t want to see any of you getting hurt.” With a nod, the Paladin hefted her axe, and strode forward into the flickering candle light.

     

*****

     


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

     _Gold!_ Everywhere, everything glittered brightly in the torch-light. Wall mounted torches set into large mirrored frames cast an ample amount of light into the long, narrow room. Tables and chests lined the walls leading to the steps of the dais at the far end of the room. Several tables littered the open space of the room where the adventurers stood, each covered with various objects.

     Stepping farther into the room, DragonClaw gasped at the grandeur laid out before her. Turning to face the passageway, she called, “Come see this!” Shadowhyn and Ulana entered, staff and swords at the ready. Nifii followed close behind, her silver Widowmaker glittering dangerously in the flickering light. Each woman gasped as she caught sight of the riches.

     Spreading across the room, the four began to examine the treasures. Excited, their voices began to call out what they found. “Black Ore!” Ulana cried, “There looks to be enough for six complete sets!”

     “Stones of Purity, and a chest full of purified varnish!” Nifii’s voice was muffled as she crawled farther under a table, “and here’s _another_ chest full!”

     Shadowhyn walked between tables overflowing with Enria and Asofe, and other sparkling gemstones that she didn’t recognize. “I’ve _never_ seen anything like this before…” She trailed a fingertip across the lines of gilt covering the table as she walked. Idly, she rubbed her fingertips together. Then, she frowned. “That’s odd.”

     “What’s wrong?” DragonClaw said as she opened another chest full of adena and rubies. She paused to look at the Bishop.

     “There’s no dust,” Shadowhyn said, “How long do you think it would take to gather a collection of this size, and yet there not be any dust?” The Paladin frowned at that, and both Dark Elves made thoughtful grunts.

     “Do you want me to try and detect any wards?” Ulana called from behind a table covered with bolts of Metallic Fiber.

     Shadowhyn tapped her lips with a fingertip, considering. “Yes, it couldn’t hurt,” she finally decided, “We could have triggered them already, so we’ll have to be careful.”

     Nifii crawled out from under a table heavy-laden with Blacksmith’s Frames. “Well, I didn’t bring any large bags with me,” the young Elder brushed the dirt from her knees, “because I didn’t expect to find a treasure trove like this.”

     Ulana and Shadowhyn laughed at the Dark Elf’s frankness, and DragonClaw chuckled before she responded, “Aye, Nifii, I didn’t expect anything like this either.” The Paladin motioned to the Bishop, “Shadow, you keep searching for whatever it is that we’re chasing. Nifii and I will start packing up everything of value that we can carry.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, and glanced at Ulana. The Summoner nodded, and glided silently into the aisle while unsheathing her swords. The Bishop crept slowly towards the dais as she prepared to summon a rain of Holy Fire if the need arose.

     Ulana’s cry of recognition caused the Bishop to turn, to see Ulana staring wide-eyed towards the dais. Shadowhyn whirled around, searching for whatever danger the Summoner had seen.

     The dais was raised three steps above the rough-hewn stone floor; surrounded on three sides by walls, the platform was set in the end of the long, narrow room the adventurers had discovered. Bookcases lined the three walled sides of the dais, all packed near to bursting with volumes and scrolls of all sizes. A desk stood to the Bishop’s right - covered with more papers and books, pretty baubles and shiny objects, the only item of note was a small wooden box untouched by the disorder around it.

     Shadowhyn looked back at Ulana. The Dark Elf’s eyes were locked onto the wooden box. “Ula?” the Bishop reached towards her Guild Sister, “Are you—” The Summoner brushed Shadowhyn’s arm aside, a wild look in her eyes as she gripped the wooden box tightly. Ulana began chanting, her lips curled in a snarl; the rough, guttural sounds that poured from her throat were from no language Shadowhyn had ever heard. The Bishop stepped closer, placing a hand on the Summoner’s shoulder, “Ula?” she began.

     Ulana turned, her eyes blood-red. “ _Amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar!_ ” she spat, her snarl baring her teeth. Shadowhyn gasped in fright, and took an involuntary step back. A thin trickle of blood ran from Ulana’s nose, flowing over her lips and dripping off her chin, staining her teeth and the white-and-gold of her leather tunic. Fear choked the Bishop’s throat; Shadowhyn wanted to cry out, to ask Ulana what was happening, but her tongue was frozen, her jaw locked in place.

     The Summoner took her blood-red gaze back to the wooden box in her hands. With a growl, she tore the lid from the box, revealing an intricately designed amulet. Roughly round in shape as seen face-on, yet flattened on its edge, it was perhaps twice as wide as it was thick, forming a disk-shape that fit easily in the palm of Ulana’s hand. It looked to be formed of layer upon layer of blackened wire in a complex, overlapping pattern, the layers bound together by thick swirls of the same dark material. Black as night, the stuff it was shaped of seemed to swallow the torch-light. A hint of green shone from deep beneath the wire layers. Taking it gently in her hands, Ulana collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

     Shadowhyn’s breath caught in her throat, and she sprang forward to throw her arms around Ulana. Shaking as she sobbed, the Dark Elf looked at the Bishop and tried to speak. Her eyes were their normal golden yellow once again. “Shhh, it’s okay Ula, it’s alright,” Shadowhyn comforted her Sister, running her fingers through her hair, and wiped the blood from Ulana’s face with a handkerchief. Brushing the Drow’s hair back, the Bishop gently kissed her on the forehead before settling back on her heels.

     “Sh-Shadow? I- I think I…” Ulana’s gaze lowered to the black amulet she held, and she sucked in a breath in horror. “I remember now!” She rushed the words now, as if afraid of not being able to say them, “I _remember_ …”

     A low rumble in the distance failed to attract anyone’s attention.

    

***

    

     _... the trials have run longer than expected, and something... something is wrong here. I am only a novice in my arts, my strength in the flows is not... strong enough. There are not many more like me, I only converse with my class sister Amathyste... she sensed nothing before my travels here to this rank place. The rotting corpses of my fallen brothers and sisters litter the ground... the ashen piles left of flesh hang palely off the sunken faces... I cannot bear to look, only to concentrate on my task. I am to kill the one called Succubus, and complete my path to that of a wizard, only then can I prove myself to Her..._

     _... I found something today... an amazing artifact... purely black, it seemed to absorb in the light around it... I dared not touch it for fear of... what presence I felt... blood, screaming... what emotions are this coming from such an object... Shilen help me, I only want to become what I want, not..._

     _... I feel pain, but... it is far away..._

     _... He tells me I am chosen... but for what?... I am still a novice... my way in the arts is not formed as of yet..._

     _... The pain is unbearable... my back is alight with fire... the fire is not of this world... I need... I dont know... someone please..._

     _... I am alone..._

    

***

 

     A change in the air caused Shadowhyn’s head to turn. It wasn’t the air itself… that was just the closest way to describe it. Shadowhyn thought that, perhaps, the _space_ around the room changed. She could tell that magic was being used, but not what kind. The Bishop knew that if another Cleric or Elder had been using Sacred spells, she would almost have been able to point directly toward the mage and tell _what_ spell had been used, and perhaps even the caster’s strength in the Art.

     DragonClaw and Nifii also looked about, making wondering noises. They too could feel that shift in the Currents. “ _I-I was al-lone…_ ” Ulana whispered as she stammered to a halt and stared toward the passageway leading out of the long, narrow treasure room that they had found. She squinted, seeing beyond the physical, and said thoughtfully, “The Winds? But who cou— _Traltixx!_ ” A faint muffled rumble burst to a roaring crescendo, accompanied by the dull _crunch_ of stone pulverizing stone. The roar of a hurricane-force gale swept into the treasure room, throwing loose objects and papers into the air; Shadowhyn cried out in surprise as she threw an arm across her eyes. Ulana and Nifii, born with the Winds, seemed to exist elsewhere, their clothing and hair barely disturbing by the raging current. DragonClaw raised her shield to protect her face from flying debris, and loosed her axe from its belt loop.

     The wind died long enough for Shadowhyn to call out. Grasping Ulana’s shoulder, she asked, “What’s going on, Sister?” Ulana nodded towards the passageway as she freed the swords from her sheaths. Almost as an afterthought, the Dark Elf slipped the amulet’s chain over her neck, the strange black disk hanging just above her breasts. Another blast of Wind swept out of the passageway, the gale tearing the words from the Summoner’s lips.

     Traltixx stumbled out of the passageway, his face bloodied and enraged. The four travelers gasped at his appearance; tears in his purple and black robes showed gashes in his arms and legs, blood pouring from numerous wounds. Several long scratches marred his pale ashen face, and a terrible cut at his hairline had laid his scalp open, blood streaming down his face and neck. “What… what did you do?!” He clenched his teeth, forcing the words from his throat. “Why would they—” An arrow grazed his ear, splintering off DragonClaw’s shield, and another tore through his right thigh. He collapsed beneath a wave of sun-bleached bone.

     “ _Traltixx!_ ” Shadowhyn called. There was no time to think, no time to really listen for a reply. An overwhelming flood of Skeletons poured into the room, turning over tables and chests in their rush. Neat stacks of coins and metals and cloth were scattered and crushed beneath hundreds of feet. Nifii had only enough time to raise her Widowmaker before DragonClaw threw herself in front of the young Elder, parting the mass of Undead with her shield. Desperation tinged the Bishop’s voice, “ _NO!_ Nifii! Dragon!” With a blood-thirsty cry, Ulana leapt from the dais, her swords flashing in the torchlight. Shadowhyn paused to chant an incantation, her voice shaking as she finished her spell. “ _Aina' megil!_ ” she cried, sweeping her staff through the air around her head. Bringing the length of wood down to strike the floor, the furious white fire that had surrounded her body dove into the wood and erupted from the top of the staff. A glowing white spearhead blistered the air as the Bishop strode to battle.

     Confusion and chaos surrounded DragonClaw and Nifii as they fought back-to-back. With every silver arc the Widowmaker carved through the skeletons, the Elder crushed and shattered a dozen or more of the ghostly white figures, with twice as many trying to force their way into the empty spaces she created. DragonClaw fought for every step forward, swinging axe and shield alike to break bones and crush skulls. She could see Traltixx, largely ignored by the skeletons running over and around his body on the floor, and forced herself yet another step closer. “Stay close Nifii!” She clenched her teeth and gasped in pain as a once-dead fist slipped under her shield to strike a glancing blow on her thigh. “We need to get Traltixx to safety!”

     Nifii almost stumbled a step when she heard, _How could DragonClaw so easily dismiss how rude he was to Ulana?_ but called back over the tumultuous roar, “He better still be alive! I have some more things to say to him!”

     A high-pitched howl buffeted their ears as the last part of Ulana’s incantation rang out over the mass of Undead. A swell of pressure in the air made the Paladin’s ears pop as a row of treasure-laden tables and chests were tossed through the sea of skeletons to her left. Half the torches on the wall to DragonClaw’s left guttered out, the flames starved by the intense wind, plunging most of the fore-end of the room into near darkness. Flung like projectiles from the Summoner’s Twister, the furniture carved a path through the milling throng long enough for Ulana to dart up to the Paladin and the Elder. “Where is he?” she snarled, her golden yellow eyes flashing in the dim torchlight, as she split another skeleton in half with a silver blade. Blood ran from various minor cuts on her arms and legs, and from her nose.

     “Just a few feet away, straight ahead!” The Elder called, swinging her polearm with all her strength. The wall of skeletons closed in on the three, filling the area that Ulana had opened. Forcing their way closer to the fallen Spellhowler, the three paid for every step with blood. The sheer numbers of the Undead made injury unavoidable, but there was no time to rest or tend their wounds.

     DragonClaw stumbled slightly, bumping her foot on the Spellhowler’s outstretched arm. “Can you clear a space?” she asked the Dark Elves, “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to get him to safety.”

     Ulana barked a laugh, sounding unusually strained. “Cover me while I cast.” Nifii grunted an affirmative, and DragonClaw continued swinging her axe. The Summoner focused, tracing a quick Pattern in red in her mind, and fixed the Symbol over a skeleton before her. “ _Runya Pelekta!_ ” she cried, and threw an arm in front of her face as the crowd of skeletons around them erupted. Shattered tables and broken chests ignited with a roar louder than the Undead, lending themselves to fuel the firestorm that swept around the party.

     The acrid smell of melted sinew and bone stung Ulana’s eyes and nose, and she began to cough. _No! Not now…_ She tightened her throat, and willed the coughing fit to go away. Looking around, it seemed that the spell had worked better than expected; smoke hung thick in the air around the bloodied adventurers, obscuring them from the Undead that still surrounded them. DragonClaw and Nifii threw hands around Traltixx’s arms, dragging him away from the treasure room doorway.

     “We’re lucky he’s not an Orc… or a Dwarf,” Nifii grunted, already tired from pulling the Drow’s dead weight.

     “If he were a Dwarf,” the Paladin nodded toward the scattered piles of treasure, “we’d have a completely different problem.”

     The Summoner kept her swords raised, and tried to ignore the queasiness in her stomach that the coughing had left. “You two ok?” she tried to ask without coughing more. She turned to see Nifii lending a supportive shoulder to Traltixx’s limp form, while DragonClaw hefted the Elder’s Widowmaker. Nifii was muttering under her breath again… Ulana’s sharp ears picked up some of what the Elder was muttering towards the unconscious Spellhowler. She grinned; he would not enjoy any of it, much less survive half.

     “Now we need to get Shadow,” Nifii said, grimacing under the male Dark Elf’s weight.

     DragonClaw froze, and Ulana gasped in fright. “Shadowhyn!” she cried, as sharp pangs of fear twisted her stomach. “ _No!_ ” She turned to look at the sea of skeletons filling the room, momentarily ignoring the human and the Dark Elves. The room’s length was hidden by the sheer number of Undead milling around, and the lingering smoke of burning wood and fabric completely obstructed their view of the dais. Light flickered weakly through the smoke. Ulana tried to hold back her tears as fear once again stabbed into her stomach… and then she felt the fear _twist_. A burning pain spread across her back, and Ulana gagged, fighting back nausea strong enough to drive her to her knees. _The Seal? Wha-?!_ Her chest heaved, and a wave of vertigo made the room spin as she emptied her stomach on the floor. Almost as one, the skeletons turned and began marching towards the far end of the room, thick streams of Undead continuing to pour from the passageway, jostling past the three women.

     A brilliant disc of light flared over the mass of Undead; its pure Sun-like brightness washed over the room, reducing black shadows to the faintest tinge of gray and making the gold and silver scattered across the room shine like stars. Several skeletons were tossed up above the rest; bleached bones were scorched black as a white-hot blade flashed in the air. A woman’s voice, raised in a wordless cry, echoed over the crowded sea of skeletons, as the disc turned and twisted. A wave of light shattered the air, searing the lingering smoke into dust, as the disc erupted into a golden blast of holy fire.

     Ulana raised a hand to shield her face from flying shards of bone as the burst of Light heated her skin, as if she had stepped into an oven. Shadowhyn stood at the far end of the room, just before the steps of the dais, scorch-marks scouring the floor in all directions around the small red-haired woman. Steam rose from the skeletons that had been flung away from the Bishop, scores evaporated by the blast. The Undead that remained fell back, most running away, some standing their ground; but they all cowered in fear of the small woman. Shadowhyn turned and saw the others standing beyond the ring of burning debris, relief and the strain of casting visible on her face. “Oh, thank Einhasad!” she cried, running towards the others.

     Ulana’s stomach _twisted_ again, and she strained to avoid vomiting again, “Look out!” she grunted through clenched teeth.

     Shadowhyn ducked under a lunging Skeleton’s attack, pivoted on her right foot and drove her spear-staff through the corpse’s sternum. It cracked and melted around the glowing spearhead, and bits of bone pelted the Bishop’s face. She yelped and wiped at her eyes, twisting away from another wave of slowly recovering Skeletons. “Get close together!” the Bishop cried, as she ran toward the others. Ulana stumbled backward, and felt the Paladin’s hands grip her under the arms and lift her up to her feet.

     Skeletons continued to pour from the passageway, accompanied by ghouls, shambling and running towards the Paladin and the Dark Elves, as the Bishop ran toward them from the opposite side of the room. Shadowhyn raised her staff, gripping it with both hands above her head. Skeleton archers paused, raising bows and pulling fletches to where cheeks would have been. Skeleton Warriors were twenty paces away, Shadowhyn close at five. The archers loosed their arrows, heavy armor-piercing quarrels streaked through the air. Shadowhyn stabbed the floor next to Nifii with the blistering white spear-head, and the room ignited.

     She should have died. Arrows flicked past her face; the wild outpouring of Sacred power from her desperate spell had altered the quarrel’s courses just enough to cause them to miss. The room boiled, and she burned as she focused the holy fire, while the sweat on her face turned to steam.

     The air blazed with a holy fire, bending itself into a narrow golden column that surrounded the shaken party. Skeletons and Ghouls fell to ash as the column expanded, clearing a small space around the travelers. The column of light and fire—flexing and warping as it shuddered under the blows of the teeming mass of Undead—howled with the strain of keeping them at bay. Shadowhyn ground her teeth and tried to resist howling along with the Barrier, arms quivering as she tightened her white-knuckle grip on her staff. A strangled groan still managed to slip past her teeth; sweat beaded on her forehead and stung her eyes when it dripped down her face. _I can't mess this up!_ She shook the sweat from her eyes, and concentrated on her incantation. _One slip and…_ She didn’t want to think of that. Shadowhyn was only dimly aware of what was happening behind her; for the time being, she _was_ the Barrier.

     DragonClaw held Ulana upright, the Phantom Summoner standing unsteadily, arms clasped tight around her stomach. She looked decidedly more pale than usual. Fear flickered through her eyes, quickly swallowed by stark rage and determination. The Dark Elf coughed, violent pain-wracked heaves shaking her already unsteady legs. Pulling the hand from her mouth, Ulana could see thick strings of blood that had come up in the coughing fit; hurriedly wiping her hand on the side of her leather tunic, she hoped Shadowhyn hadn’t seen.

     Nifii was crouched on the ground next to Traltixx, binding the unconscious Spellhowler’s wounds. “Why I should even bother,” she deftly worked dirt and grime from a gash on his arm, chanted a quick spell to erase the wound, “patching _you_ back up after how rude you were to Ulana…” Her temper paused when her hands reached an arrow that had passed through the muscle of his leg; snapping the fletched end off the arrow, the Elder pulled the rest of the shaft out by the arrow-head before sealing the wound with another spell, “I don’t even know why I bother,” she muttered again as she tended the still bleeding cut on his forehead.

     One last blinding flash of light surged from the floor at the Bishop’s feet as the just-completed Sacred Construct burned itself into the stone. Rocking back on her heels, Shadowhyn collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily and rubbing her temples _._ Working her jaw open with a _crack_ , the Bishop turned an eye to her friends. “The Barrier won’t hold long. Nifii, you need to go back an—”

     “NO!” The Elder looked wildly at the exhausted woman, “I’m _not_ leaving you here!” Her already fearful eyes widened more when she caught the glances DragonClaw and Ulana directed her way. “I… I’m not leaving y—”

     “ _What did I say?!_ ” The Bishop’s outburst startled the young Dark Elf. She stood, walked over to the young Elder, “What did I tell you when I said you could come with us?” A sullen look crept over Nifii’s face as Shadowhyn continued, “You _have_ to go, Nifii. You too, Traltixx.”

     The now conscious Spellhowler nodded from his position on the floor, before adding weakly, “I’ll need to borrow a Scroll, unfortunately.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, and looked at Nifii before continuing, “We need you to let the Tetrearch know what’s going on.”

     Grim disappointment shone from Nifii’s eyes. “As you wish, Shadowhyn.”

     DragonClaw and Ulana shuffled to a side of the Barrier’s interior farthest from Nifii, while the young Dark Elf dug through her shoulder bag, pulling out a red-ribbon-tied Scroll of Escape. She handed it to Traltixx, anger still seething in her eyes. He nodded his thanks with a mumbled “Shilen bless you, Nifinae,” before bowing to the others. “Fare you well, DragonClaw. Safe travels, Shadowhyn.” He turned to face Ulana, “And I shall see you again soon, Ulana, daughter of Mayuri, daughter of Elsanor.” She nodded, a grim look on her face, as the Spellhowler unfurled the Scroll and vanished in a blaze of blue-white flame.

     Nifii turned to face DragonClaw and Ulana, her expression stoic. The creases around her eyes gave her away, more so than the paleness of her cheeks. Bowing formally to the Paladin and the Summoner, Nifii fought to keep her voice steady. “Until we meet again.” DragonClaw and Ulana returned the bow, and received a hurried hug before they had fully straightened themselves.

     “Shhh now, it’s alright,” DragonClaw’s voice was quiet as she stroked the young Elder’s hair. “Besides,” she added with a smile, “We’ll be right behind you.”

     Nifii looked from her to Shadowhyn, anxiety plain on her face. “Truly?” Worry carved deep furrows in her brow, made her voice tremble. “You’ll be coming soon after I leave?”

     “Yes, little one,” Shadowhyn threw her arms around Nifii’s neck, her bloodshot eyes looking tired, “We’ll be heading back to town as soon as we deal with this… mess.” The four adventurers looked around. The fierce light of the Bishop’s Barrier was all that kept the teeming mass of Undead from completely swallowing the room. The rows of chests and tables had all but disappeared beneath the milling weight of ghouls, the piles of precious stones and metals carelessly strewn about by the rushing skeletal warriors.

     “As soon as y—” Nifii’s train of thought broke. “ _What!?_ ”

     “Nifii, look at me!” Shadowhyn’s stern voice cut through to the Dark Elf. “We will be fine here. But you must go. _Now_.” The Bishop motioned toward the glowing column surrounding them. Where it once had been a yellow bright as the sun, it now fitfully cast little more than a dull golden glow. “The barrier won’t last much longer, and when it fades, you _must not_ be here.” Nifii nodded, reluctantly, her bottom lip extended in a pout she’d sported since hearing her order to leave.

     Shadowhyn walked Nifii a pace or two away from DragonClaw and Ulana, then gently held the young Dark Elf’s shoulders. “Do this for me, Nifii.” Nifii stared, unable to believe her eyes. Tears of pain and exhaustion welled in the Bishop’s eyes, her teeth grinding as she struggled to fuel the barrier. “ _Please_ , Nifii…” Shadowhyn flinched as a pack of ghouls launched themselves at the Barrier, the golden glow flaring bright as it tore their limbs from their bodies as a Holy Light engulfed them. The red-haired woman’s voice—ragged and hollow—was barely a whisper, “ _Please… you_ must _go now._ ”

     Nifii nodded, unshed tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “But before I go,” she whispered to the Bishop as she pulled the woman close, “you shall receive what Gifts I have.” A vicious swirl of wind scoured the floor around Nifii as she stepped back from Shadowhyn, skillfully tracing patterns of light in the space in front of the Bishop’s head. Completing her diagram, the Elder breathed deeply before placing a hand—palm flat—against the Pattern, and pushed through the tracings to touch Shadowhyn gently on the forehead. Nifii’s soft-spoken incantation all but disappeared in the flood of power that the Bishop felt, roaring in her ears and filling her eyes with a brilliant blue halo.

     To Shadowhyn, a floodgate had just been opened; what strength she had in the Sacred Arts had just been magnified, the rush of pure Holy Light coursing through her body lifted her up on her toes, made her want to laugh aloud with the sudden fierce joy that she felt. The Bishop grinned, her eyes less tired, and the Barrier around the party flared a bright yellow. “Thank you, Nifii.” Shadowhyn curtsied as best she could on slightly shaky legs.

     Nifii leaned forward and gently kissed the shorter woman’s forehead, “Be safe, Shadowhyn.” Returning the Bishop’s nod, the Elder turned to DragonClaw and began chanting another incantation. Ulana turned her head so as not to be blinded by the yellow nimbus that flared around the Paladin. _What’s wrong with my eyes?_ The Summoner worried as she turned to face the roiling mass of Undead around them.

     She shivered as another burning pain dug into her spine; the stabbing sensation caused her to jerk upright. _Blood an—!_ Another violent coughing fit doubled her over. _No!_ The now-familiar warm dampness spread across her back; the copper scent of fresh blood filled her nostrils. _When will it stop!?_ Her stomach _twisted_ again and, choking down a cry, Ulana threw her back against the suspended fire of the Barrier. The black amulet around her neck seemed to weigh a dozen or more pounds, its pressure tightening her chest, making it hard to breathe. Gripping her head in her hands, the Dark Elf ground her teeth as the Barrier’s heat burned into her leather jerkin and made the skin on her back seem afire.

     Shadowhyn wheeled around—searching for the Barrier’s interference—her hands clutched to her temples, sinking to her knees with an agonized shriek. Nifii sprang forward and snatched Ulana by the wrists, pulling her into the center of the column’s space. DragonClaw took the Summoner by the shoulders and held her still as she loosened Ulana’s tunic to examine the fresh burns on the Dark Elf’s back.

     Nifii knelt next to the Bishop; Shadowhyn was sitting on the rough stone floor, knees pulled to her chest, hands to her head, rocking back and forth. Hoarse whimpers were all that the Elder heard coming from the woman. “ _Shadowhyn!_ Are you alright?” Grabbing the woman by the wrist brought her attention to the young Dark Elf.

     “Nifii? Y-you need to go!” Panic was visible in the red-haired woman’s eyes.

     Biting her lip, Nifii shook her head, “No, I can’t leave you here like this, I—”

     “Please Nifii, go now!” Shadowhyn pulled a red-ribbon tied Scroll from her bag, her hands shaking as she pressed it into the Elder’s hands. “Go,” she paused to take a ragged breath, “We’ll be along soon.” Nifii nodded, and pulled the ribbon loose, unfurling the Scroll.

     Turning her back to the fountain of blue-white flame, Shadowhyn crawled over to where DragonClaw held Ulana steady. A great red burn covered the Summoner’s back, her tunic still smoking slightly, and from the intricate circle-shaped markings… “Ulana, you’re bleeding!”

     The Summoner shook her head, mumbling “I’m alright, everything’s alright.” DragonClaw looked at the Bishop, and shook her head.

     Worry filled the red-haired woman’s eyes. “We need to leave, now,” Shadowhyn said, “We’ll come back later to clean this mess up.” The Paladin nodded, and reached for the Scroll in her bag. Placing it on the ground next to her feet, DragonClaw riffled through Ulana’s shoulder bag, looking for another. Finding only one, she placed it in the Summoner’s lap. Turning back to the Bishop, DragonClaw found Shadowhyn a shade of pure white.

     “I… gave Nifii my last scroll.”

    

*****


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

     The stairs were carved, or perhaps just shaped, from dark stone; silver and white tracery shone from what seemed to be deep beneath the mottled surfaces when light bright enough to reveal them danced across their angles. They were never starved too long for light. A great stone Hand stood, fingers grasping at the sky, in the center of the Village. Lightnings of a brilliant blue-white coruscated across the faceted carving, casting a faint glow across the square. It was daylight now; a smoky white haze drifted above and around the pulsing ball of energy suspended between the Hand’s fingers. If it had been nighttime, faint glimmering stars would have been floating in the space below the rocky ceiling, stretching fifty spans or more above the glistening black stone.

     A section of the staircase erupted in a gout of blue flame, space and distance bent and twisted around each other as the lithe form of a Dark Elven battle priestess spun into solidity. Nifii gasped a lungful of fresh air. The dank, dusty air of the School had permeated her senses, but the Bishop’s Fire had tainted her nostrils with the acrid stench of burnt bone and rock. Staggering slightly on the steps, the young Elder almost tripped over the bag of jewels and other items she had brought back with her. A firm hand caught her elbow, allowing her to steady her feet. Her heart was still pounding in her ears; the adrenaline coursing through her veins would take hours to fade, and it would leave only worry and anxiety for those she had left behind. _They’ll be soon behind me, they promised!_

     “Are you Nifii?” the firm, steadying hand’s voice was strong, “Traltixx said to watch for your arrival, and to aid you wi—”

     “ _Traltixx_ said, did he?” Nifii snapped, worry and fear blunting her manners, “I don’t know _what_ he told you but…” her voice trailed off as she glared up at the Dark Elf. He was mage, as much was obvious by his dark maroon and black robes trimmed with thread-of-gold and thread-of-silver. Pure white hair had been pulled back from his face; some of it was gathered at the nape of his neck in a silver clasp, while the rest blew freely in the soft breeze. Amber eyes gazed down at the young Elder, and her breath caught in her throat in surprise.

     “Traltixx said that you had saved his life, and for that I thank you.” The Spellhowler bowed at the waist, his eyes still intent on her face, “We Spellhowlers look after those who aid us.” Nifii mumbled something unintelligible; she couldn’t quite think straight, much less speak. “He also said to make sure you made it ‘ _with all haste_ ’ to the Tetrearch. The Tetrearch has returned to his rooms in the Temple, if you would follow me?” He stooped to lift her bag, and strode with a purpose across the promenade, slowing once to make sure she had followed.

     Swift footsteps brought them up a flight of stairs on the far side of the Village, leading to a large, ornate building. Turning from the Temple, the Spellhowler bowed once more to Nifii, then began to walk back toward the staircase. “W-wait…” Nifii called, catching his sleeve as he walked away, “What’s… your name?”

     He paused, looking over his shoulder at her. “My name is Urkelian.”

    

***

    

     “Shadowhyn, _move!_ ” Ulana yelled as she threw herself against the Bishop, an arrow piercing the air where the woman’s head had been moments before. The air was rank with the stench of burning bones, the smell curdling in Ulana’s stomach as she brought her hand down and away from her, crushing the skeletons before her with a shadow that surged from the ground.

     “Thanks,” the red-haired woman replied as she methodically motioned towards a mass of skeletons rushing to fill the gap. Her staff flickered, the runes blazing for a moment, before the Undead disintegrated in a flash of holy fire. “Ulana?” Shadowhyn stole a worried glance over her shoulder as the Summoner collapsed against the wall, heaving coughs spasming her body. Red stained the floor once again, and the strange markings on her back glowed fitfully.

     The barrier had fallen only minutes ago, but it felt as though hours had passed for the three women as they held back the teeming Undead. They worked their way toward the dais at the end of the ruined treasure room, hoping to find some other way out. A writhing, lurching mass continued to claw its way through the entrance; there was no escape in that direction.

     Ulana cast again, her Twister scattering bones and loose limbs before the party, rocking the far wall with a grisly rain. The three women ran as quickly as they could through the gap the Summoner had formed, trying to take as much ground as they could before they were surrounded again. DragonClaw swung her shield, smashing a ghoul against a pair of skeleton warriors, pushing them back as a flickering blaze from the Bishop’s staff engulfed them. The smoke and ash billowed as Ulana spun, bringing her swords down to fell two more ghouls. “I need a moment,” the Dark Elf panted, “before I can cast another Twister.”

     DragonClaw stepped near, pushing back against the mob with her axe, “We’re almost there, let’s keep moving!” Another flash of light danced along Shadowhyn’s staff as she pointed toward the dais, the skeletons there vanishing in the conflagration. She took Ulana by the wrist and pulled her along, the two closely following the Paladin’s charge. They took the steps to the dais in a leap, DragonClaw plowing into the Undead on the platform, crushing them between steel and stone. Shadowhyn’s staff blazed again and the nearby skeletons slumped to ash. Ulana pointed back down the stairs toward the length of the room, and cried her incantation, “ _Sul’arrna!_ ”

     The sudden wind pressure cracked the air around the three women. The Twister’s roar was amplified, confined as it was on three sides by the stone walls of the dais. The bookshelves shuddered, the volumes lining their shelves leaping to the air in the instant of displaced wind. The torrent of air leapt from the Summoner’s hands to rip down the length of the treasure room, pulverizing everything in its path. Debris that littered the floor turned to shrapnel, adding a new layer to the storm that raged in the narrow stone chamber.

     All was quiet, save for the ringing in the human’s ears. They paused to look around; for the moment, they were safe. Shadowhyn slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. “Thank you… Sister,” she wheezed, “I didn’t have much left… in me.”

     Ulana sat down on the stairs slowly, before collapsing with a groan, “I’m… ugh, glad that worked.” She coughed again, something caught in her throat. She spat, a glistening red _something_ falling to the floor in front of her. _What is happening to me?_

     DragonClaw moved quickly, heaving back one bookshelf, pushing another, checking the corners of the platform for any avenues of escape. She stood facing the bare stone of the back wall, chest heaving from her exertions, hands forming fists at her sides. She growled over her shoulder to the Bishop and the Summoner, “There’s no way out.” In anger she struck the fitted stone with her fist, gauntlet ringing with the impact. A dull echoing _thud_ came from the wall itself.

     Ulana heard it, lifting her head slightly to speak, “It sounds like there’s open air beyond the wall.” The Paladin grunted in response, having thought the same. She glanced around quickly, settling her eyes on a discarded War Hammer under a pile of bones. Grasping the hammer in both hands, she made her way back to the dais wall.

     Shadowhyn scrambled out of the way as the hammer rebounded from the stone, the clap of impact beating against their ears. She crawled to the overturned desk, leaning against its surface as the Paladin continued her assault. Shadowhyn glanced down as she sat, hands shifting papers around as she turned. She caught a glimpse of some manuscripts on the floor nearby, pages of books strewn about from the Dark Elf’s winds. “This is…” she paused, gaping at the diagrams drawn on the old parchment. Hands moving quickly, she rolled as many loose pages as she could find, stuffing them into her shoulder bag.

     The wall cracked under DragonClaw’s onslaught, the stone slowly giving way. As the Paladin’s rhythmic pounding subsided, the three women could hear the faint echoes of footsteps coming from the passageway at the far end of the room. She dropped the hammer at her feet, picking up her axe & shield. “It’s time to go, ladies,” she said, tossing a torch through the hole, sending a fitful light flickering in another stone passageway. “Sun’s out, time to wake up,” she forced a cheerful tone, stepping over to the Summoner to help her to her feet. “Come _on_ , Shadaera,” she said, impatiently, as the Bishop stumbled to her feet, trying to stuff another book in her satchel.

     DragonClaw hopped through the hole in the wall first, the floor a few feet lower than the dais, axe and shield at the ready. She found herself in another wide corridor, perhaps thirty spans high, terminating in rough stone above her head. She motioned for the others to join her, hands up to help the weakened Summoner down to the floor. Shadowhyn hopped down, glancing left and right, hoping to find some clue as to which direction to head.

     She turned to the Dark Elf, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Sister,” she said, tentatively, “Do you know where we are?” Ulana gazed at her, eyes clouded with pain and fear, taking a long moment before shaking her head. Shadowhyn gave her a small smile, “It’s alright,” she breathed out slowly, “We’ll find a way out, you’ll see.”

     Ulana lifted a hand, pointed down the corridor to the right, “Air,” she gasped, swallowing another spasm across her back, “fresher… that way.” Shadowhyn shushed her gently, nodding to DragonClaw to lead the way before placing her shoulder underneath the Dark Elf’s arm, hoisting her up, letting the Drow lean on her for support. “I can… walk myself thank you very... much” the Summoner said, struggling away from the red-haired woman.

     “This is no time for your stubbornness, let me help you,” the Bishop said firmly. With a grunt of resignation, the Dark Elf ceased her struggles, allowing the smaller woman to help her walk.

     They struggled down the hallway for some time before Ulana felt it necessary to speak, “I have—to tell you—something,” she gasped, her _jitai_ still oozing blood, her back burning like someone held a torch to it. Shadowhyn grunted in reply, glancing at the Dark Elf for a moment, before returning her attention to the floor. She didn’t want to trip on anything while helping Ulana move. “My—my servitors—wouldn’t—respond in there,” the Summoner admitted, embarrassment and rage mottling her face, “I don’t—know why.”

     The Bishop waggled the fingers on one hand while making a dismissive noise. She gave the Dark Elf a firm squeeze, still not tearing her attention from the uneven stone floor.

     Ulana tilted her head, touching the red-haired woman’s temple with her forehead. “I just—wanted—to do more— _ahh!_ in there,” she bit out, her knees starting to feel weak.

     “Shush. You.” Shadowhyn grunted, “Were. Amazing.”

     DragonClaw held up a fist, and the two mages stumbled to a halt. Shadowhyn helped Ulana lean against the wall before stepping quietly next to the Paladin. They had reached a rectangular room; not as large as the treasure room they were just in, perhaps twenty paces by thirty. There were some statues with censers burning, but no apparent cover. The corridor they were in connected at the end of one of the long sides, with another opening in the middle of the short wall ahead of them, leading off to the left.

     Another corridor entered the room on the far short-wall, where a group of five ghouls and a pair of skeletons lurked in the near darkness. Shadowhyn pulled at DragonClaw’s shoulder, “ _I’ll handle them_ ,” she whispered, “ _You get Ulana to that hallway_ ,” she pointed to the opening to their left. DragonClaw moved carefully back to the Dark Elf, setting her axe and shield on the floor, kneeling to take the Drow on her back. Ulana put one foot up after the other, letting the Paladin hook an arm under her thighs. The Guild Leader bent down slightly to reach her shield, slipping her right arm through its straps, grabbing her axe with the same hand. She stood, bobbing from side to side slightly as she made sure the Dark Elf on her back felt secure.

     For her part, Ulana slid one blade back into its sheath, leaving that hand free to grab the straps of the Paladin’s heavy plate armor. She clung with her legs as tightly as she could. Shadowhyn looked at the two and nodded, stepping close to whisper in their ears, “ _I’ve a bit of strength left for a Gift, to help us move a bit faster_ ,” she frowned, face downcast, “ _I… I don’t have much left. We need to find a place to rest._ ”

     DragonClaw nodded, “ _Do it_.”

     Shadowhyn took a step back, glancing at the room beyond the corridor where they hid. As soon as she began casting, they would hear. She would have to be fast. She closed her eyes, seeing the Pattern she needed in her minds-eye. A faint _clack-clack-clack_ came from the darkness of the corridor. She chanted quickly, twice, casting _Wind Walk_ on herself, then on the Paladin. As the Undead began to move in the room beyond, she turned, just for a moment, to glance over her shoulder. That sea of sun-bleached bone had washed after them.

     DragonClaw saw it too, “ _Run!_ ” she shouted as she took off, heavy plated boots carving gouges in the smooth stone floor, sparks flying. She dipped her shoulder as she cleared the end of the corridor, a desiccated arm swinging through the space where Ulana had been. Ulana angled her arm back, letting the Paladin’s momentum draw her serrated blade through the ghoul’s face.

     Shadowhyn was right behind them, staff flickering, the ghoul and the nearby skeletons vanishing in a gout of flame. She dodged an arrow from an archer and cast again, the bowman crumpling to ash.

     They had barely made it ten strides down the new corridor before that teeming mass crashed into the room behind them, the instinct-driven corpses needing a moment to realize where their prey had gone. The rumble of foot falls resumed behind them, but the Undead were not gaining ground. DragonClaw pounded down the corridor, boots ringing off stone. Shadowhyn tried to keep up, almost as fast as the woman _Carrying a whole other person, are you kidding me?_ She shook her head, tried to breathe.

     They corridor ended, and they sped through another rectangular room. DragonClaw saw the only way out was ahead, and focused on staying at-speed. Shadowhyn glanced around quickly, catching sight of several more statues, burning censers, “Ghouls!” she shouted as she pointed her staff, light flaring quickly as they burned. “Keep—going!” the Bishop yelled, “more—behind!”

     Into the next corridor they raced, starting to slow, fatigue beginning to burn their legs, their lungs. A skeleton lunged at DragonClaw from an alcove and she bashed it to the wall with her shield. Another jumped at the Paladin, but she was already past. Shadowhyn ran by and it disappeared in a fount of holy fire. Arrows clattered against the wall to their left as the right wall opened on a wide gallery, a pack of archers standing at the far end. The Bishop hissed in frustration as she dodged another volley; the Undead bowmen were too far away for her Sacred Arts, they would just have to keep running and hope for the best.

     DragonClaw held her shield arm up, trying to cover the weakened Dark Elf as well as she could. Several quarrels ricocheted off the shield, while two buried themselves in the armor on her ribs. She grunted at the impact, but didn’t feel any pain. “Do you—see—any blood?” she called up to the Drow.

     Ulana looked over her shoulder, down at the human’s side. “No,” she replied, into the Paladin’s ear, “I think your— _hng_ —armor stopped them.” Leaning over had made her head start spinning, she tucked her head down against the Paladin’s neck, clamping her mouth tight, desperately holding down her stomach. She groaned as another ripple of pain wracked her body.

     “Up—ahead!” Shadowhyn yelled behind them, “looks like—a bridge!” The corridor ahead ended thirty paces away at the terminus of a wide bridge, spanning five meters at least, ornately carved with symbols the two humans could not recognize. It arched up over a great fog-shrouded blackness, rising high enough that the bridge was hidden by the roof that raced along over their heads. She glanced back over her shoulder, the pursuing mob clacking after them. As they neared the end of the corridor they could see how the bridge rose to meet a platform, suspended by four great, thin towers on its corners. To their left, another length of bridge stretched from the platform into the distance, ending at a sheer cliff-face.

     “This is Vicele’s Bridge,” Ulana said to the back of DragonClaw’s head, beaming even under grime soaked hair. “It is where we Drow stood against the evil that was here... but I can’t seem to remember it all now...” she brought her free hand to her head, trying to brush her hair aside. “There should be a— _ahh!_ a path to the surface nearby.” The two humans pounded their way up the bridge, gasping with every step.

     Once they reached the platform, they could see how the bridge continued ahead, sloping gently down to where it ended in a shambling mass of ghouls, a row of skeleton archers standing at the ready several spans nearer. DragonClaw swore under her breath as she slid to a halt, dropping to one knee to raise her shield over Ulana. Shadowhyn fell to her knees beside the Paladin, gasping for air. She looked back the way they had come, saw that clacking wave of skeletons emerge from the corridor and slowly start up the bridge.

     Ulana began coughing again, leaning away from the Paladin’s back. She looked at that sheer cliff-face, began tapping at DragonClaw’s shoulder. “This way,” she croaked, “this way is clear!”

     DragonClaw looked over her left shoulder, saw the open bridge, saw the lack of cover from those iron arrows those skeleton archers used. “Those archers will kill us,” she said, taking her arm out from under Ulana, setting the Dark Elf down onto the stone platform. “I’ll take care of them, you two get ready to run.”

     “What, no,” Shadowhyn panted, “not by yourself!” She rolled into a crouch, trying to stand on trembling legs.

     DragonClaw held up a hand, palm out, “Just… wait. Heal me if you can, ok?” The Bishop nodded mutely as the Paladin rose to her feet, stomping her feet, shaking out her arms, like this was nothing more than exercise. She strode purposefully to the edge of the platform, holding her axe out toward the archers, shield at the ready. The Guild Leader looked back at the two mages, nodded toward the tower to her left, at the platform’s corner where the two bridges met, “Hide there, try to hold the other group off.”

     “I think… I have another Twister left,” Ulana groaned through clenched teeth as Shadowhyn half pulled, half dragged her to the leeward side of the tower.

     “That just might work,” DragonClaw said, “…Here I go.” Narrowing her eyes, she could _feel_ the Undead surrounding them, feeling their own hatred. Time slowed down for her as she focused on the single emotion in her head, feeding it with all the fatigue, anger, and malice... all negative emotions. Grasping it in her mind, her eyes snapped open wide, a snarling smile reaching her lips. “Come to me!” She cried, a howl rending the air as the Paladin’s spell was cast. The Undead before them focused on DragonClaw, and she shivered as every glassy eye and empty orbit turned in her direction.

     The archers loosed their arrows, their aim true, but her shield was more than enough. They reached back to their quivers for another missile as she dashed toward them, vaulting forward as the bridge curved downward, a blast of wind behind her threw her forward, rapidly making the distance between her and her prey. Another volley released in her direction, not all at once & at a greater variation of angle. She deflected two with her shield, dodged another, and felt the other three strike. Two hit her in the chest, at the thickest part of her armor, the quarrels caught harmlessly in the plate. The last struck at her ribs on the right side, slipping in through a joint in the armor, continuing to strike the stone of the bridge behind her.

     She spun, her ribs on fire, her axe a razor-edged blur as it smashed aside one archer, another falling to her backswing. Two more arrows struck her shield and she dashed forward, bashing an archer with the shield, crushing its skull with the savage blow. She felt another arrow strike her in the leg, and she dropped to her knee as it buckled. _No!_ She launched herself, batting aside another arrow with her shield to chop the skeleton apart, sliding to her knees to duck under another missile. She kicked out, knocking the legs from under the archer, stomping its skull into the stone bridge. The Paladin turned to face the last archer, which had moved enough to place it between her and the platform. She charged up the bridge, her guttural roar cut off when an arrow pierced her stomach. Her momentum carried her forward, crashing into the archer to smash it against the bridge.

     “DeeCee!” Shadowhyn screamed, having seen the Paladin take the arrow. She ran to meet the woman. DragonClaw stumbled up toward the platform, pulling the shaft free with a tortured groan. “Come on, let’s go!” the Bishop said, slipping under the armored woman’s shoulder, pulling and pushing her up the bridge. Dumping the Paladin to the ground next to Ulana, the Bishop worked quickly to pull the arrow from her leg.

     The two humans stood to leave, to try and run, but it was too late. Both groups of Undead had reached the platform, Ghouls on one side, wind-rattled Skeletons on the other. DragonClaw glanced down at Ulana, gasping & panting for breath, still bleeding freely from her arms and back. _She can’t move by herself_ , she thought before whispering, “ _Get her, I’ll hold them off._ ”

     Shadowhyn glanced at DragonClaw, hissed, “Stay behind me!” She squared her feet, planting the end of her staff on the platform. She raised an arm above her head as the Undead surged forward. She snapped her fingers, pointing at the mob, calling “ _TURN!_ ” and the sun rose above her head. Half the creatures burnt to ash instantly, with many running away as fast as they could.

     Enough remained to pose a threat. _How long?_ They had stopped their advance at the sight of her brilliant yellow-gold Construct, cowering, but it faded. She shook with rage, _How long will we run?_ As they took a step toward her, she balled her fists. “Fine,” Shadowhyn hissed through bared teeth, “You want flesh that much?” _How long will they_ hunt _us?_

     She was too angry, too unfocused. Unbalanced. She knew, but she _had_ to act. She was the only one who could. She spat the words to her resurrection spell, livid, not caring to get the pronunciation exact. The magic felt wrong as she cast, it hurt, it burned in her throat, in her hands. It wasn’t supposed to do that, but there was no stopping it.

     The Undead still on the platform came to a halt as the spell began its work. Thick ropes of skin and muscle began to weave themselves into place on the skeletons, the existing flesh beginning to turn pink, knit itself together on the ghouls. Still angry beyond reason, Shadowhyn stomped her foot, yelling, “Suffer as you made _mine_ suffer!”

     DragonClaw gasped at what she saw: the half formed, half healed creatures were struggling to breath, gasping with life in bodies that could never live. They fell to the ground in agony as the spell continued to work, keeping them alive despite their physical state. Ulana stared, largely unconcerned with the undying creatures. “We need to go _now_ ,” the Paladin said, helping the Dark Elf to her feet, tugging on Shadowhyn’s arm. _What… what has she done?_

     The three women turned away from the writhing half-dead on the platform, hurrying away from the sounds that echoed after them across the bridge. A tall, double-doored entrance waited at the end of the bridge, both doors already standing open. A small chamber was visible beyond the doorway, with another ornately carved bridge past that, disappearing into fog. DragonClaw pulled the stone doors shut as the women passed through, dropping a heavy beam into place to bar the stone portal. “Hnng—now, Shadaera, a healing spell would be great,” the Paladin grinned as she sat down against the wall, sweat beading on her pale skin, her hands covering her bleeding abdomen. Shadowhyn nodded, helping stand Ulana against the wall next to DragonClaw.

     The Bishop stood a few paces away from the other two women. Rubbing her hands together, she set her fingers into motion, tracing the Pattern in the air as she recited the spell. Sacred Constructs appeared, glowing under the three women as she finished her incantation.

     The pillars of light, the physical manifestation of the Bishop’s healing spell, sent a flash of auburn and gold around the three adventurers. It briefly illuminated the walls of the room they had come into.

     Shadowhyn knew something was wrong as soon as Ulana screamed.

     The Summoner fell to her knees, dropping her swords as she clutched her stomach. Landing hard on her right shoulder, Ulana began coughing. The black amulet around the Dark Elf’s neck struck sparks from the stone floor, and dark reddish-black blood splashed on the stone in front of the Dark Elf, as she struggled to push herself up.

     “Ula?” DragonClaw called, standing up from where she leaned against the wall. She glanced at the stone doors, but the Paladin heard no signs of pursuit so far.

     “ _Ula!”_ Shadowhyn cried, running to her side. Dropping her staff as she knelt next to her friend, the red-haired woman threw her arms around the Dark Elf. “Sister? Sister! What’s wrong?” The human’s voice was shaking, “What happened?” _Did I…? Was it because I misused…? Please, no!_

     Ulana gasped, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “ _I… I don’t—”_ She coughed again, blood staining the Bishop’s blue tunic.

     Tears began to stream from Shadowhyn’s eyes, “Ula? Wh-what have I done?” She worked quickly, examining Ulana’s wounds, checking her eyes, nose, skin; she saw how the scratches and slashes from the Undead hadn’t healed, instead the wounds had blistered, bubbled, blackened at the edges. Ulana groaned.

     Sounds of movement from beyond the barred doorway caught the Paladin’s ear; DragonClaw’s sharp in-take of breath caused the Bishop to turn. “They’re coming, we need to keep moving!”

     Fear quickened the red-haired woman’s movements; she picked up the Summoner’s fallen swords, and as quickly as she could, secured them in their sheaths. Loosening the leather straps holding the scabbards onto the Dark Elf’s back, Shadowhyn tied them together and threw them over her shoulder. Gently giving support to Ulana, Shadowhyn helped the injured woman to her feet, and together they hobbled toward the ornate bridge leading away from the small room they occupied. The Bishop paused, and gestured toward her staff, lying forgotten on the floor. Snatching it from the air as it floated into her outstretched hand, Shadowhyn leaned their combined weight on the length of aged wood, and helped the nearly unconscious Summoner away from their pursuers.

     The Guild Leader checked the barred gate one last time. It would keep them away for a few minutes. _Long enough to find some shelter, Einhasad willing._ The Paladin turned away from the doorway, and trotted across the bridge, her flickering torchlight the only illumination for the party. Beyond the bridge, a narrow passageway beckoned, soon swallowing the light completely.

    

***

    

     _The early morning sun, bright in the cloudless sky, brought the shadow of the Obelisk to the farmhouse’s front yard. White-painted wood and plaster shone in the sunlight, and the knots and swirls glistened in the dark woods that trimmed the building’s shape. A slow, steady plume of smoke drifted from the bricked chimney top, peeking from one side of the thatched roof. Neat rows of vegetables and fruits grew in the large garden to the back of the house, and bright cheerful flowers of all shapes and hues livened the front yard._

     _Inside, the sunlight shone through windows of clear and colored glass. The light scattered from the red, blue, and yellow stones set in the window frames, sending miniature rainbows dancing across the delicate lace curtains. A waist-high line of cabinets ran across the wall, the shadows from the curtains dappling the smooth stone counter top. A wood burning stove sat to one side of the room, while a large oak table dominated the rest of the kitchen. A pretty red-haired girl sat at the table, idly paging through thick books and various stacks of meticulously drawn diagrams, while a beautiful woman stood at the counter preparing the morning meal, her long shimmering red hair pulled back from her face._

     _The clatter of footsteps on the stairs announced the arrival of Jade — the boisterous eight-year-old’s energetic eyes danced beneath dark auburn bangs as she glanced around the room. When her gaze settled on the red-haired girl at the table, she glared and stuck out her tongue. “Mamaaa,” she started—_ Earlier than usual! _Shadaera thought—her voice warming up for higher pitched whines, “Shadaera didn’t clean up her side of the room, and—”_

     _“Now Jade,” their Mother interrupted smoothly, “take this carafe out to your Father,” she said while producing a stone-ware pitcher. She stared off into space for a moment before adding, “Be quick about it. He’s thirsty, and would like to see you before he heads into town.” Jade grinned wide, her sister’s imaginary offences forgotten, and ran for the kitchen’s door as soon as she took the pitcher from her Mother. “And take those bandages from the cabinet with you!” the woman called after the little girl. “He’s gone and cut himself again.”_

     _Shadaera stirred slightly, flipping another page before looking at her Mother, “Mama, how do you do that?”_

     _Humming softly to herself, the woman smiled before responding, “Do what, dear?”_

     Huffing _slightly the girl continued, “Know where Father is, what he’s feeling?”_

     _The smile on the woman’s lips tightened a bit, as the corners of her eyes drew tight. “I suppose it’s time for you to learn, Shadaera.” She wiped her hands on a brightly embroidered towel before sitting at the table next to her eldest daughter. “We were betrothed already, your Father and I, when his Guild needed his Sword in battle.” She sighed, and absentmindedly traced a fingertip along the grain of the table’s wood. “I wasn’t supposed to follow, but I did anyway. Just as well, since I found him near dead on the battlefield.”_

     _The woman turned, and looked the girl in the eye, “He was sure to die when I found him, and I knew nothing I could do could save him… That’s when I realized I had to…”_

    

***

    

     “…and that’s why I have to Life-Bond with her,” Shadowhyn said for the third time. Worry creased her forehead, and she once again held a hand on the side of Ulana’s throat while pressing the back of her other hand to the Dark Elf’s forehead. Her Guild Sister’s pulse was weak, but steady. The Bishop knelt on the floor, the Summoner’s head pillowed in her lap. “It’s the only way I can prolong her life… I know it has its risks, but it’s the only thing I can do.” She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe the tears away before they could fall, “ _It’s all I have left,_ ” she whispered.

     The Paladin sighed as she stroked the Bishop’s hair, “She would want it too, I suppose. I’ve just never heard of such a thing.”

     Shadowhyn frowned slightly, “It has _severe_ downsides, DeeCee. Most people aren’t willing to chance them. My parents were the only bonded couple I’ve heard of in our time.” Her already soft voice grew softer, “Perhaps the last.”

     The armored woman reached down and patted the smaller red-haired woman on the shoulder without taking her gaze from the passageway’s opening, “Do what you feel you must, Shadaera.” Worry was plain in her eyes, but she steadied her voice, “I believe in you… as does Ulana.”

     More tears began to fall from the Bishop’s eyes, “I… I hope I can… h-help her.” She shook her head, her eyes swollen from crying, her cheeks flushed crimson with shame, “I can’t stop her bleeding, and I-I don’t know what my h-Healing did to her, but she’s n-never _screamed_ like th-that before.” _You know why! You_ fool _!_

     “Shhhh little one, it’s alright.” The Paladin tried to comfort the sobbing woman, “It’s alright.”

     “No, it’s _not!_ I-I _hurt_ her! I shouldn’t have— It wasn’t on p-purpose!” The still, small, accusing voice in her head was steady, _No, not on purpose... but still your fault._

     The Summoner shifted with a groan, her eyelids fluttering open. “Wha… What’s…” she licked her lips, her tongue almost too dry to moisten them, “…going on?” DragonClaw knelt at Ulana’s shoulder, and checked her pulse again. Shadowhyn’s relief at seeing her Sister wake up muffled her sobs.

     “You… are sick, Ulana.” DragonClaw said softly, “We’re doing everything we can to get you home.”

     Ulana nodded, more a twitch than a conscious movement, before looking up at the crying Bishop. “Why… do you cry… Sister?” she asked, weakly.

     “B-because I c-can’t do anyth-thing right, I can’t s-seem to Heal you.”

     Ulana moved her arm with a wince, and groaned as she lifted it up to touch Shadowhyn’s cheek. “I… believe.” Shadowhyn’s sobs quieted, and she clasped Ulana’s hand tightly to her cheek.

     “I… I have one m-more spell to try.”

     Ulana closed her eyes, and nodded.

     The hallway glowed bright from the light of two Sacred Constructs; one haloed the Bishop’s head, while the other was slowly revolving in the air above the Summoner’s face. DragonClaw stared in awe at the Patterns the red-haired woman had traced. Both were gossamer mazes of light, delicate as lace, more beautiful than any weaver’s masterpiece. The Constructs slowly turned, the symbols drawn among the tracings flickering and changing, the Patterns thrumming and beating to a tempo the Paladin couldn’t distinguish. _Heartbeats, maybe?_ From the time the Constructs had first flared into being until now, the Bishop had sat still as stone, with only the Patterns increasingly complex growth and the sweat running down Shadowhyn’s face as an indication that anything was happening. The Guild Leader shook her head, _Stay focused!_ and resumed her watch of the corridor’s length.

     Abruptly, the small red-haired woman’s eyes snapped open as the Patterns flared brighter, the symbols on the Constructs twitching once before standing still as the Patterns began shrinking. Both disks of light shimmered as they collapsed, drawing themselves tightly into both the human’s and Dark Elf’s heads, settling within their bodies. Exhaling, Shadowhyn took her hands from either side of Ulana’s brow and began to massage her own temples. Her soft laughter echoed quietly down the stone hallway as she slowly began to sob.

     Alarmed, DragonClaw knelt next to Shadowhyn and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Shadaera, are you—is she—?” The Bishop looked up at the Paladin, tears shining in her eyes while a grin spread across her lips.

     “It is done,” she looked down at Ulana, and gently ran her fingers along the Dark Elf’s face, “It worked. I can… _feel_ her now…” In the back of the Bishop’s mind, she could sense her Sister; sensations drifted from the Life-Bond, like a faint breeze on a summer’s day. Fear and exhaustion were the most powerful emotions, but they were faint compared to the pain that wracked Ulana’s back and arms. Shadowhyn’s own back and arms ached in a sympathetic echo. Tears began to fall from her eyes again, “Such pain… I’ve never felt anyth—”

     Ulana sat upright with a cry, clutching at her stomach as it _twisted_ , and Shadowhyn’s face went white as she felt a churning wave of nausea echo in her own stomach. “We… need to… keep… moving.” Ulana gasped and panted, fighting for her breath. DragonClaw nodded, her face grim, as she rose and looked towards the corridor’s entrance. No longer visible in the darkness, the massive stone entryway to the bridge still stood, barred, protecting this corridor. The low rumble was growing louder, and a rhythmic pounding echoed down the hallway.

     Glancing back at the Bishop, DragonClaw received a nod and a quietly spoken, “They’ll get through eventually… There are… too many of them.” Stooping to pick up the Summoner’s swords, DragonClaw threw the sheath straps over her shoulder as she lifted the torch high for the other women. Ulana was sitting upright, but had slumped over to one side.

     Shadowhyn crouched next to her, murmuring, “Come along now, Sister, you can do it.”

     Ulana grunted slightly from her pain as the Bishop pulled her to her feet. Shock was visible on the Dark Elf’s face, “I feel so… weak, how am I walking?”

     “Don’t worry, Ula,” Shadowhyn said as she put an arm around the Drow’s waist, shouldering the Summoner’s weight. “I’m helping you… I’ll give you as m-much strength as I c-can,” she stammered slightly as tears began to well up in her eyes, “You’re in so much pain, Sister… How can you not be weeping?”

     “If I… wept from a… _little_ pain like… this,” Ulana wheezed, “I would… dishonor… my mother’s memory.”

     DragonClaw’s flickering torchlight led the slowly moving party down the corridor. The sound of their footsteps echoed along the harsh stone, as did Ulana’s coughing and labored breathing. As they traveled farther, the corridor itself grew wider and more ornately decorated, with recesses in the walls displaying statues or vases or stone carvings depicting a scene from ancient Dark Elf history. Without warning, the glow of the torch on the rough walls and ceiling vanished, and the sound of the Paladin’s footsteps faded into the darkness about her.

     “I’ve got you, Sister, it’ll be alright.” Shadowhyn mumbled, more to herself than to the Summoner. She held one arm around Ulana, supporting the Dark Elf’s weight, helping her to keep moving. Shadowhyn concentrated on the link between them, and tried to push more of her strength through to her Sister. _Come on Ula, hang on ‘til I get you home!_ Her fierce thought echoed in her mind as she tried to aid the Summoner through force of will. Shadowhyn’s own body ached, her back a solid mass of pain, her arms and legs shaking. Yet she knew her own pains were faint compared to what Ulana endured. The Summoner breathed heavily, wheezing and coughing with every breath.

     DragonClaw turned, and motioned for the two to follow her. “It’s clear; I think we’ve found a place to rest.” The three entered a vast room, ornately carved and gilded stone covered the walls and ceiling the torchlight illuminated. Various altars and tables littered the immediate area; the torchlight did not reach far enough to show the rest of the room. The rumble off in the distance grew steadily louder. “Shadaera, help me block this doorway—” the Paladin grunted as she tried to push a heavy stone altar across the opening in the wall, “Hurry! We haven’t much time!”

     The Bishop gently lowered Ulana to the floor, and stared in horror. Just squeezing the Dark Elf’s side and arm to help carry her had broken blood vessels, causing the Drow’s blood to ooze through the skin. Dark bruises were forming where the Bishop’s hands had been gripping Ulana’s arms and torso, while another darker bruise was forming on the Dark Elf’s chest where the unusual black amulet hung. Shadowhyn dropped to her knees, staring at her hands, slick with the Summoner’s blood. Panicking, the red-haired woman shook Ulana by the shoulders, the Dark Elf’s eyes rolling around, unseeing. “No, no, _no_ …” the Bishop whimpered, “Stay with me Ula, do you hear me?” Ulana gave a mumbled groan in return. “ _Stay with me!_ ” Shadowhyn sobbed, a sinking feeling in her chest. Shadowhyn could feel nothing through the Life-Bond, aside from emptiness and pain. Anxiety began to gnaw at the woman’s thoughts, _What have I done?_ she shuddered, truly afraid.

     “ _Shadowhyn!_ I need your help!” The Guild Leader’s voice cut through to the Bishop. The crying woman rose, and ran to the entrance to help the Paladin with the blockade. DragonClaw examined a heavy block of stone that had a smooth upper surface; it lay hard up against the wall. Shouldering her shield, the Paladin thrust the edge of her axe’s blade between the wall and the stone. Heaving back on the axe pulled one side of the block away from the wall. Before running around to the other side to repeat her actions, the Paladin glanced over at the Bishop. Shadowhyn stood on the other side of the stone, her hands white-knuckled as she gripped her skirts, never looking from the Dark Elf laying on the patterned stone floor five paces away. She swayed from side to side, as if wanting to move and restraining herself. “Shadaera,” DragonClaw asked gently, “Can you push this for me?”

     The Bishop looked at the Paladin in confusion, her eyes slightly glazed and glistening with tears. “What? Oh, yes,” she murmured, running back to pick up her staff. DragonClaw slid her axe into the loop at her belt, and pulled her shield from her shoulder. Standing on the far side of the room’s entrance, she planted her feet and held the shield before her. “Alright, go ahead and push now, Shad.” The Bishop nodded, and began chanting an incantation she’d learned as a novice. A swirl of wind at her feet wove around her legs before spinning into a ball between her hands; finishing her chant, Shadowhyn thrust the vortex forward, and the wind strike lanced out toward the heavy stone. With a groan of stone-upon-stone, the altar slid toward the Paladin. Throwing her weight against the stone, DragonClaw’s shield caught the altar, slowing its movement until it rested square in the entrance, partially blocking the corridor.

     Ulana groaned, and Shadowhyn jumped, turning as if to run back to her Sister’s side. “Wait, Shadaera,” The Paladin turned to the other side of the room, “There’s more we need to move yet.” Shadowhyn sighed, looking toward Ulana once more before hurrying after DragonClaw.

     Setting up the blockade was a definite necessity, but the entire time DragonClaw had to keep the Bishop concentrated on the task. Shadowhyn’s mind would wander as she concentrated on giving Ulana as much strength as possible. Most of what the red-haired woman felt through the Life-Bond was pain, and every so often, a strange heavy flicker, like a weight in her head.

     After the last stone was in place—”That’s as good as we can make it,” the Paladin had said, brushing the dust and dirt from her hands—Shadowhyn sprinted back to Ulana’s side, and gasped when she saw the Dark Elf. Blood had oozed through the bandages wrapped around her arms, as well as from the strange bruises the Summoner had received while Shadowhyn was helping her walk, pooling on the floor beneath her. The red-haired woman riffled through her shoulder bag, searching for more clean bandages. Finding one roll— _Just one left? What will we do when_ —Shadowhyn shook her head as she swiftly unwrapped the soiled strips of fabric from the Summoner’s arms, carefully re-wrapping them after examining the still bleeding _jitai_. The Bishop frowned when she saw that more blood had pooled beneath the unconscious Drow’s shoulders.

     The Bishop trembled as she rolled Ulana onto her side; the circular markings that had once covered the Dark Elf’s back had faded, in their place an angular nine-pointed star—crisscrossed by circles, squares, and other symbols—had appeared, the skin of her back blistered and puckered around the diagram. Gently laying a fingertip on the Dark Elf’s back, Shadowhyn groaned as the weight swelled in her mind, feeling like a thunderclap in her head. Putting her hand to her head, the weight faded to a dull headache, lingering closely around Ulana’s presence in her mind. Her vision wavered slightly as she looked around. “DeeCee, I need you!” Shadowhyn called.

     The Paladin trotted over to the other two women, interrupting her inspection of the room where they had taken shelter. “What’s the matter?”

     “Look at this…” The Bishop pointed at the mark on the Summoner’s back, “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Holding the torch overhead, the Guild Leader studied the lines etched in Ulana’s skin.

     Shaking her head, DragonClaw muttered, “I’ve never seen the like before…” She paused, and pointed to one corner of the diagram. Her fingertip lightly brushed the Dark Elf’s back, and she flinched and grunted in surprise. “Hmph… odd. Anyway, this symbol here,” she pointed again, “I’ve seen _this_ before. It’s a letter or a word in the Old Tongue.” The Paladin frowned, searching through her memory, “I don’t know what it means, though. I saw it in an old manuscript I had to study, years ago.”

     Fear surged through Shadowhyn’s mind, and she jumped, looking about wildly, the room pitching and rolling in a wave of dizziness. It took her a moment to realize the sensation had come from Ulana, and the Drow’s eyes snapped open before the Bishop could open her mouth. “Where are we?! What’s—” Ulana’s frantic questions were cut short as she gripped her stomach with a cry.

     “Easy now, Ula,” DragonClaw said.

     Shadowhyn spoke at the same time, “It’s alright Sister, don’t worry.” The Summoner tried to shift her position on the floor, but the Bishop held her shoulders down with both hands, “Stay still Ula, you’re still bleeding, I h-haven’t been able to stop it yet.”

     The Dark Elf shivered, and again tried to sit up, “No, no, I’m alright…” Ulana managed to sit upright on her own, brushing aside the helping hands offered by the other two women.

     The blockade of heavy stones shifted with a _thud_ , while dust and loose rocks in the walls around the corridor entrance were scattered across the floor. Shadowhyn jumped at the noise, and DragonClaw muttered an oath; she had been so intent on Ulana that she had missed sensing the Undead approach. Ulana swallowed weakly and muttered “Is that…”

     Shadowhyn nodded fearfully and began gathering her things into her shoulder bag. “Is there another way out of here, DeeCee?”

     The Paladin looked at her, the grim reality of their situation heavy in her eyes. “No, there’s not.” She sighed, “Over there’s a bridge to a platform of some sort. I want you to take Ula over there.” The Bishop’s eyes widened as she started to speak, but the Guild Leader rode over her protests, “I’ll stay at the blockade, and hold it as long as I can. With any luck, they’ll lose interest. If not…” She reached into her bag and handed two red-ribbon-tied Scrolls to the Bishop, “You and Ulana _will_ leave.”

     “I… I can’t—” Shadowhyn stuttered as DragonClaw rose to her feet and brushed the dust from her knees.

     “Now go, that’s an _order_ ,” the Paladin commanded, pointing away from the blocked passageway. “I don’t want to see you near this doorway, understand?”

     The Bishop nodded numbly, and stumbled to her feet. “Come along Ula,” she said, the room tilting with another wave of nausea as she poured more strength through the Life-Bond, “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

    

***

    

     She floated for what seemed to be an eternity, drifting through the dark quiet. Pain and fatigue lingered there, just beyond the edge of sight. She thought if she turned quickly enough, they would be there, looming close over her shoulder. Not that she had a body to turn, here in the black. Light throbbed below her, toward her and then away with every pulse; thick streams of emotions and sensations poured through the void. Even here, in the nothingness, they were overpowering. She landed lightly, her feet gently brushing a solid surface. Glancing down showed her nothing – for there _was_ nothing beneath her feet. A wave of vertigo threatened to overtake her before she remembered she could float again just by pushing away from the surface-that-was-not.

     It caught her eye then; a small, pitiful spark at her feet, casting a feeble light into the utter blackness. Finding what she sought made her grin. The surface-that-was-not faded, and she drifted down to grasp the tiny Flame with both hands. It asked, and she answered; torrents of white light poured from her hands into the spark. It twitched and grew, surging from a spark to a torch-sized blaze, surging again to a roaring bonfire’s width. With the Flame before her, she opened her eyes with a grin.

     White light haloed the Bishop’s hands as they directed the Sacred Construct floating above the Summoner’s chest. Pouring as much strength into her Sister as she could manage barely seemed to affect the Dark Elf’s fatigue; the Bishop had long felt the exhaustion. Slowly moving her Construct over Ulana’s body, Shadowhyn could see just what little she could do for her Sister. She sighed, and blinked back tears. She still hadn’t found a way to stop the _jitai_ from bleeding, and now there seemed to be internal hemorrhaging. _How is this possible? Wh-what’s causing this? Wait… “_ There’s something here,” she called to the Paladin.

     Shadowhyn and Ulana had taken refuge on the platform on the far side of the room, directly across the wide floor from the corridor. A great stone altar stood in the middle of the platform, dark granite and marble shaped into a low table of sorts. Ulana lay on the stone, the Bishop’s cloak thrown over her legs to help keep her warm. DragonClaw had discovered that the great room opened into an immense cavern, stretching as far as the eye could see. The platform stood on a pillar, separate from the great room’s floor; railed almost all the way around, there was only one pathway to the platform. A short stone bridge stretching across the chasm linked the altar—at least, Shadowhyn assumed it was an altar—to the main floor of the great room.

     DragonClaw turned from watching the great pile of stone blocking the corridor and called back a question. “No, I don’t know what,” Shadowhyn called in return, “but something’s interfering with my Art.” She frowned, her forehead wrinkling and her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated. “It’s some Dark Magic that I can’t sense… aside from the void that it’s carved in her Spirit—” The blockade shifted, the stones grinding against the rough floor, and DragonClaw put her shoulder to its center while drawing her axe and slipping a hand through her shield’s straps. Shadowhyn hurriedly dispelled her Construct, and grabbed her staff from where it stood against the stone table, leaving her shoulder bag next to the Summoner’s cloak-covered legs. Her head spun from moving too quickly, her arms and legs weak from pushing her physical strength through the Life-Bond. She paused to take a breath and steady her vision, forcibly focusing her eyes, before gently placing a kiss on Ulana’s forehead, “I’ll be right back, Sister.” Ulana mumbled a reply, her eyes only half-open.

     Shadowhyn started across the short stone bridge. It was perhaps ten paces in length and three feet wide, with waist-high walls on either side, both floor and walls covered with delicate carvings and lines of gilt. The Bishop had stumbled halfway across the bridge before DragonClaw waved her back. “Stay there Shadowhyn, you need to rest.” The Guild Leader grunted as the barricade shuddered at her back. “And you need to watch Ulana!”

     Shadowhyn tripped, fell to her knees, and slumped against the bridge’s wall. _DragonClaw’s right,_ she berated herself as she wiped sweat from her face, _you can barely stand without help._ Shadowhyn looked behind her at the Dark Elf lying on the stone, shifting fitfully in near-consciousness. _And nothing you can do can help her… if you took her back to town—_ The Bishop shook her head, the room reeling as a wave of dizziness swallowed her, _NO! I won’t leave DeeCee behind!_ She gasped, “I could… set a Ward—”

     “Are you strong enough?” the Paladin interrupted, “Be honest!”

     Shadowhyn hung her head, shame blooming crimson on her cheeks. “No,” she whispered.

     With a roar, the upper half of the barricade slumped forward, the heavy stones pounding into the floor around the Paladin. “ _DeeCee!_ ” Shadowhyn shrieked, her voice drowned by the tumultuous groan of granite grinding and cracking. Dust swirled thick around the opening for what seemed an eternity. Shadowhyn forced herself to her feet, her muscles straining at the effort. _So tired…_ shaking her head only served to tilt the floor up to strike her in the face. _Wha-?_ Her ears rang, and she tasted blood from where she had bitten through her lip. Shadowhyn sneezed and choked, then doubled over to empty her stomach; nausea and fear washed across her mind from the Life-Bond, clogging her throat and lungs. She pushed off the floor, careful not to move her head more than necessary. Light shone dim through the dust roiling at the passageway; an armored form erupted from the left side of the cloud, axe glittering and singing through the scrabbling mass of Undead that followed close behind. “Dra… _Dragon!_ ”

     The Paladin spared a quick glance in the direction of the bridge. “ _Run Shadow!_ ” her arm blurred as her axe carved through the crowd around her. “ _Take Ula back to t_ —” her voice was cut short as the roaring sea of skeletons swelled, swallowing her beneath re-animated bone.

     “ ** _NO!_** ” Staggering to her feet, Shadowhyn slumped against the waist-high bridge wall for support. Ulana groaned behind her, but the Bishop couldn’t look away from the dust-hidden corridor. More Undead poured from the opening, marching swiftly toward the bridge. Closing her eyes in concentration— _Mother, lend me strength!_ —Shadowhyn recited a familiar incantation. White flame swirled around her body, flickering fitfully— _How weak am I?_ She thought—before blazing bright and diving in one side of her staff and springing out the other. A pace-long wickedly-curved blade blistered the air before the Bishop’s face, throbbing and humming as she forced it to keep its shape. Her eyes grim, Shadowhyn weakly lifted her scythe-staff, and planted her feet to face the approaching danger.

    

***

    

     _Her ears were ringing... she was floating in a mass of nothingness, that... presence beckoning to her._

     **_What ̕do̶ y͡ou ͝w̵an͠t, Ula̧na?͜_ **

     _Her eyes scanned franticly in both directions, she could see nothing but the endless black pitch around her. She felt as if her arms were bound, the nape of her neck was cold, as if something were breathing behind her._

     **_I ̶c̢an give ̢y͘ou w̶h̛a̢t҉ you w͜a̵nt.͢.._ **

    

***

    

     “Ulana!”

     The glowing scythe of the Bishop flowed a brilliant hue as it slashed down upon the unfortunate skeleton that had drawn too close. Shadowhyn was breathing hard, the sweat pooling on her brow. _I don’t know how much longer I can do this..._ she said to herself, swinging the staff above her head before bringing it down in a wide sweep, severing bones. The skeletons continued to pour in from the passageway, like an endless torrent of evil trying to fill the great room.

     Ulana groaned and raised her head. Her vision was blurred but she could vaguely see a figure... with a glowing rod swiping at something. “Shadaera?” she said pushing herself to her knees. She looked down at the stone she rested on, where the blood had pooled earlier. _What is happening to me?..._ she thought to herself, rubbing her pulsing _jitai_. She could see clearly now, her Guild sister fighting frantically to hold back the Undead that tried to push past her. _I need to help her... but how? I can’t summon again, El-Unas sai-_

     “Ahh!”

     The Bishop sank to her knees having taken an arrow in the thigh. The glow atop her staff erupted in a flash of pure-white flame, knocking her to the floor and setting the nearby skeletons ablaze like so much dry kindling. The Undead fell back, briefly, the flames jumping from creature to creature. “Ulana, get back! I can’t stop them!” the red-haired woman called back to her Guild sister, trying to crawl now, pulling herself back toward her.

     Ulana wobbled to her feet, _What can I do? El-Un and El-Unas won’t respond, but maybe…_ The Dark Elf limped towards Shadowhyn, drawing her swords from her scabbards that had been laid in front of the stone table. The Bishop crawled back along the bridge of the shrine, hoping to put the bottleneck to use. The skeletons had to line up one by one to cross, giving the two women time to kill them... but the torrent swarmed on, the Undead climbing over their own corpses to get to the two.

     “Shadaera... I have to try it!” Ulana cried, whipping her swords down to cut down a skeleton. “If I don’t we will die here!”

     Shadowhyn breathed low as she pulled the barbed arrow out of her thigh. Her worried face showed her concern. “’It’? You mean—wait! You’ve never used it! You don’t know what will happen!” They backed further toward the shrine, the Bishop having cast a few hasty Wards to hold back the Undead.

     “Ulana... no, don’t... I don’t want you to get hurt, _please!_ ” Shadowhyn cried out, on her knees, her hands covered with dirt. “You don’t know the blood-price! You could _die!_ ”

     The Summoner ripped a piece of her cloak off, wrapping it around her hands. “That doesn’t matter anymore,” she said with a deep vacant look on her face, “they must be stopped, at any cost...” The Drow looked down at the Bishop, a tight smile flashing briefly on her lips. “What has to be done, must be done.” She turned, pulling that blackened volume from her bag, laying the spellbook open on the altar, examining the Pattern, the invocation.

     Bringing her arms full circle, the Summoner wrapped herself in the shadow flows around her, engulfing her in its sweet sickliness as it curled her stomach. This summon was different; it did not open a gate like the others, the drow could feel _herself_ opening, as something was drawn out. Her back roared with pain, almost bringing her to her knees. She finished the incantation and her world went blank...

     With a thundering roar the shadows in the room lurched and pulled, pooling towards Ulana. There was something... alive about it. The Bishop backed away, uneasy, her spine flaring in pain, an echo of what the Summoner felt. She could barely see Ulana anymore; there was a dark glow around her. The skeletons had broken through the wards and began marching towards the two women.

     The skeleton nearest them vanished, absorbed into the ground. A second skeleton collapsed to its knees, and exploded outward, sending shattered fragments into its comrades. “What—” the Bishop began to say, and gasped at what she saw. Ulana had fallen to her knees, the back of her tunic ripped as the shadows around her gathered, and _grew_ from the new _jitai_ on her back. A horrifying figure drew itself out, clawing its way free, pushing the summoner aside, its milky white eyes surveying what it beheld before it. _Si-Sana-Soulless_ had been summoned.

     The Bishop cried out, her voice a high-pitched wail as terror gripped her limbs. Flaring waves of some dark power echoed throughout the room as the dread servitor ripped through the Undead, drawing shadows away from walls to feed itself, shattering skeletons, tearing ghouls apart. It turned to look over its shoulder at the Bishop, a greedy smile contorting its face. Shadowhyn fell cold, as if she had turned to stone. “U-U-Ulana?” she stuttered, managing to glance over at her friend. The Summoner was laying on the altar now, coughing fitfully again, blood pouring from the _jitai_ on her back.

     The _Soulless_ turned, surveying its destruction. It floated slowly back to the Summoner, pausing to say something... in a nightmare voice that would haunt the Bishop forever. ** _Thi̷s ̛i̛s̢ ̧wha͞t̵ sh̕e͜ w̨ąnt̕ed.̢.͡. ͠aņd the blo͘o͝d͟-pric͡e͡ w͘ill̴ ̶b͠e pa̸i͝d̛.͜_** The Summoner and the Bishop cried out in pain as the servitor resumed its vengeance, leaving them gnashing their teeth as each paid their share of the contract. The shrine fell silent, save for the sobbing of the two women.

     Blood stained her robes and left dark patterns on the stone floor; cuts and lacerations marred her skin, and her deeper gashes oozed thick and dark. The Bishop’s body burned with exhaustion and pain, though the pain was not entirely her own. Ulana lay on the altar—placed, no, _discarded_ there by the _Si-Sana-Soulless_ after it… emerged—gasping for breath as her newly-etched _jitai_ poured her life’s blood onto the dark stone slab. The Dark Elf had made a pact with the _Soulless_ , but its blood-price far outstripped that of _El-Unas-Shadow_ and _El-Un-Silhouette_ combined. The terror and pain that wracked the Summoner’s body echoed—not faintly—through the Bishop’s form.

     Shadowhyn clenched her teeth as she crawled toward the stone altar, the arrow-wound in her thigh burning with every movement, praying with every painful step. _Ulana’s awake, but how long will she last?_ Horrific noises filled her ears; just behind her the _Soulless_ had reappeared to tear through the last lingering ranks of the Undead, feasting on their remains, and glorying in the bloodlust that filled its being. She shut the noise out of her mind—thinking too long on the sounds would only make her ill. The Bishop could dimly sense the High-Servitor; another sensation carried over the Life-Bond, as near as she could figure.

     The rough stone floor of the shrine’s platform scraped the skin on her hands and knees; it caught tatters and frays on her robes, pulled tears wide. She was vaguely conscious of the staff she clutched in her right hand. The wood had blistered and cracked, blackened from the failure of ‘Holy Weapon’, and her right hand—the hand closest to the effect at the time—had been badly burned. Exhausted as she was, it was more than useless as a Focal point, much less a physical weapon. She didn’t think she could have _lifted_ it, much less swung it at an aggressor, but neither could she force her blistered fingers to let it loose. _I… I’m sick._ Something this deep within the School of the Dark Arts was affecting her. She tried to concentrate on her magic, to call upon Einhasad’s Holy Light… but each time she grasped its energies, they seemed to be yanked from her grip. The platform spun with every shuffling step as she crawled. Squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to avoid vomiting again, she continued crawling along the platform until her shoulder struck the leg of the massive stone altar. Her hands slid on loose rock and dust at the impact, and Shadowhyn whimpered as her arms gave way, tumbling her to the floor in a heap.

     “Si-sis… ter?” Ulana’s voice was a harsh, halting rasp.

     Shadowhyn moaned as the room spun madly about, and clapped her hands to her forehead. “Yes?” she managed to croak. Reaching upward, slapping about for the altar’s edge, the Bishop pulled herself to her knees once she found a hand-hold.

     Ulana’s eyes were following her as she slowly inched herself up onto the altar, and a faint smile tugged at the Dark Elf’s lips. “You… look teh… terrible,” the Summoner coughed as she laughed softly. Rolling onto her side to lay next to Ulana, Shadowhyn gasped as another wave of pain and nausea swept over her. _Soulless_ laughed in the distance; Ulana shuddered as the _jitai_ pulsed, and the slowly spreading pools of blood around her arms and shoulders gushed slightly.

     Shadowhyn lay still, too exhausted to move, and watched the _vis vitalis_ run up to her sleeve. “I’ve… seen you look… b-better, too,” the Bishop muttered.

     Ulana grunted, and slid her hand toward her Sister. The white wrinkles around her eyes belied her strength, but she smiled nonetheless. The red-soaked bandages on her arm pulled free, and the dark amulet slid to one side of her throat as she moved. Green glittered from deep within its shape. Shadowhyn blinked back tears as she grasped the Drow’s outstretched hand. She took a deep breath, coughed at the copper scent filling her nostrils, shuddering as the muscles along her side burned at the breath, and exhaled slowly before speaking, “DragonClaw… she’s… she said to head—”

     “Do you… hear f-from Jade?” the Summoner’s voice was hoarse and weak.

     “She’s following… my father,” Shadowhyn winced at a knotted muscle that throbbed in her—in Ulana’s—back, “as a prophet.”

     “Good,” the Dark Elf grunted, “Shi… Shinoa will… follow… mother’s path… as—” Ulana coughed, and the blackened amulet slid off her shoulder, falling into the pool of blood next to her head. A red light glistened through its layers, and Ulana shivered, the pool of blood vibrating slightly. The strange, heavy weight pounded through the Life-Bond, making the Bishop gasp as Ulana groaned under its full effect. Shadowhyn squeezed her Sister’s hand; Ulana squeezed back and turned her head to look at Shadowhyn, grimacing in pain as she moved, “Tell Shinoa… that I… th-that…” Ulana’s lips continued moving silently, and Shadowhyn watched as her Sister’s eyes shifted slowly to stare over her head.

     “Ula… U-Ula?” Her trembling voice was a whisper, “ _Ulana?_ ” Long moments passed, and the part of her mind that held tightly to her Sister’s presence collapsed; the Flame flickered and died. While she drowned in her loss, a white-hot pain in her chest swallowed all but the little red-haired girl’s sobs.

     “D-don’t… don’t leave me…”

     “ _please_ …”


	12. III. Confrontation

 

 

 **Confrontation** _v. t._ : To face hostilely; to oppose with firmness; to confront one with the proofs of his wrong doing.

    

    

     The late afternoon sun slanted across the field, lending a warm glow to the rolling hills and the tall grass that swayed gently in the soft breeze. The winds had quieted – the stronger gusts no longer cut through the Bishop’s woolen cloak. The Dark Elf sat still, her face calm aside from the slight creases around her eyes, as she pondered the tale she had just heard. It all seemed so… fantastic. She shifted her weight and reached for the half-empty water skin they shared, sending the sunlight scattering across her burnished sapphire-blue and gold armor.

     Despite the warmth of the sun, the Bishop shivered as she scrubbed the palms of her hands across her face, drying her tears. She smiled faintly, but after a moment it faded. She sighed, huddling lower on the rock where she sat, and wrapped her cloak tighter around herself, taking extra care with her bandaged shoulder. “When I next opened my eyes,” Shadowhyn’s voice was slightly hoarse, “I was lying in a bed, bandaged too tightly to move. I can’t be certain, but I think I drifted in and out of awareness for close to a week.”

     Shinoa nodded, wiping her mouth with the fabric underside of a gauntlet. “DragonClaw had you placed in the guest room of our home for a few days. I didn’t remember until you mentioned it.”

     “I have changed since then,” Shadowhyn said softly, “It’s no surprise you did not recognize me.”

     Shinoa nodded slowly, “DragonClaw and Nifii watched over you, until—”

     Shadowhyn jumped, surprised at what she’d heard, “DragonClaw _and_ Nifii? Are you certain?”

     Shinoa raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Nifii watched you day and night, unwilling to leave your side.”

     The Bishop sighed, her face growing confused, “I always wondered… I felt as if something had come between us… I could never figure it out. She seemed so distant, as if I’d hurt her, somehow.” She shook her head with a wry laugh, “I finally decided it must have been because I sent her out of the School.”

     Shinoa shifted, an uncomfortable expression flitting across her face, “No… DragonClaw told her something that you did in the School… Nifii would not tell me what she had said. She only muttered ‘ _Impossible… such blasphemy… I can’t believe it!_ ’ the entire time she watched you recover.” The Blade Dancer shrugged, “Whatever the Paladin told her kept her awake for days, as much as her worry for you. I think they half-expected you not to survive your… injuries.”

     “I shouldn’t have,” the Bishop said, laughing slightly at the young Dark Elf’s look of surprise, “The Life-Bond ritual I performed on Ulana, I should have died when she did.”

     Shinoa narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean?”

     “I had told DeeCee that there were serious downsides to the ritual,” Shadowhyn replied, “namely that when one of the pair dies, so does the other. Always. Well… I didn’t tell her _that_ at the time.” She shook her head, rubbing again at the palms of her hands, “I _shouldn’t_ be here. I don’t know _why_ I’m still here.”

     The look in Shinoa’s eyes and the set to her jaw proclaimed her doubt. “I hope you understand… your story is—”

     The Bishop shook her head and loosed a mirthless laugh, “No, no, I do understand.” Her lips quivered as she tried to smile, “It _is_ too much to believe.” She paused, taking a deep, ragged breath, “I… I did everything I could. For her. You must believe _that_ , if nothing else.”

     “ _No_ , I _do_ trust your words, Shadowhyn,” the Dark Elf gently placed a gauntleted hand on the frail woman’s arm, “I _believe_ you. I suppose I had expected… hoped… for something more, something… different. I’m not sure _what_ I expected…” Shinoa glanced toward the south as a distant rumble sounded from a mass of thunderheads darkening the sky. “DragonClaw would never speak of what happened, and Nifii only knew so much…”

     “Ulana died with all honor, Shinoa,” Shadowhyn shook her head, “She gave her life to protect me… someone most unworthy of her sacrifice.”

     The Blade Dancer laughed, standing tall and stretching. “Now _that_ I refuse to believe!” At the Bishop’s look of confusion, Shinoa continued, “My elder-sister would not give her life for someone unimportant.” She smiled down at the frowning red-haired woman, “I know that to be true. As she cherished you…” the Dark Elf placed a hand on the human woman’s uninjured shoulder, “I shall also.”

     The sun glinted from the tears brimming in the Bishop’s eyes as she placed a hand on Shinoa’s. “Thank you… And as I treasured Ulana, so shall I treasure you… My decidedly _younger_ Sister,” the Bishop laughed as Shinoa grinned, and ruffled Shadowhyn’s hair.

     “Now then,” Shinoa chuckled as the other woman swatted her hand away, “One question: why were they calling you ‘ _Shadaera’_? Dadrabian used that name, too.”

     “Oh? That’s my given name. Shadaera Whynn Fenrir,” the Bishop laughed, “When I first met Master Thainn, we had a tough time understanding each other’s accent and he thought my name was ‘Shadowhyn’,” she rubbed the back of her neck, looking slightly embarrassed, “aaand I kinda liked it?” She gave the Dark Elf a sheepish grin as the Blade Dancer doubled over in laughter.

     “Ha! His accent is still _so bad_ ,” Shinoa giggled, “If he’s not pointing at something when he speaks, I’m _completely_ lost.” She wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling at the thought. The two women looked at each other for a moment before the Dark Elf spoke again, “Thank you.”

     “Whatever for?” Shadowhyn replied, leaning forward as she shifted her legs around.

     “For talking. For speaking to me as a friend. For…” she made vague motions with her hands, “For treating me… as… an equal. Not as a child.”

     The red-haired woman nodded in acknowledgement, “You are most welcome, Shinoa, daughter of Mayuri, daughter of Elsanor.” They grinned at each other, the formality of the words clashing with their content.

     “So,” Shinoa sat down, getting comfortable, “What started you on your investigation?”

     Shadowhyn reached for her battered leather bag that lay next to her on the grassy field. “I found these papers after Ulana demolished that treasure room, before I twisted Mass Resurrection to...” The Bishop sighed, and wiped a tear from her face with one hand, while riffling through the papers in her bag with the other. “I still… hope… _pray_ … that I will be forgiven for that… one day.”

     Shinoa tilted her head, leaned back on her hands, giving the red-haired woman a quizzical look. “What do you mean? You used your power to escape that danger, I don’t see why—”

     “Resurrection is a Gift, not some blunt instrument!” The woman’s interruption startled Shinoa, but the human continued before she could speak. “Using it as I did, as, as a weapon, was a _perversion_ of Einhasad’s mercy!” Shadowhyn balled her hands into fists, her body shaking with self-loathing. “I am _unforgivable!_ I am a _Bishop_ , and I damned those souls to worse torture than what is possible in life!”

     Shinoa shook her head in disbelief, “I still fail to see wh—”

     “You don’t realize what I did, do you?” Shinoa paused and thought for a moment before shaking her head again.

     “There are two necessary steps in the Resurrection spell,” The Bishop began, holding up a hand to display her index finger. “First, Healing is woven into the corpse, to prepare the body to support life. Whatever injuries snuffed the Flame of Life are removed. Secondly,” Shadowhyn extended another finger, “the soul is called back to the body, and bound to the flesh, restoring the person to life.”

     Tears began to stream down the woman’s face, “In my anger, I bypassed that first step… I forced souls into bodies _physically incapable_ of living, and bound them to that ravaged flesh.” She shuddered. “Their agonized screams still haunt my sleep… but I know I deserve far worse for what I did.”

     Shinoa nodded slowly, “I think I understand, Shadow… I cannot phrase a similar action of my profession, but I get the sense of… _wrong_ that you feel it was.” Shadowhyn chewed on her bottom lip as she nodded; Shinoa continued her thoughts, “But, when the rhythm of battle swallows your senses, you must follow where it leads.” The Bishop gave the Blade Dancer a confused look, and the Dark Elf hurried to elaborate. “You say you acted in anger, but how can that be wrong? It was your life or… well…”

     A wry smile tugged at the corners of Shadowhyn’s lips before she shook her head, “As a Bishop, I’m supposed to be _above_ such base emotions… I’m never to be _not_ at peace.” She sighed, and pulled a bundle of pages from her bag, “Since Ulana died, peace escapes me… I feel like something’s…” unconsciously, the woman put a hand to the back of her head, “missing… incomplete.”

     Shadowhyn shook her head, “Be that as it may, all my life I believed the Sacred Art to be separate from all others,” The Bishop held out some papers, “and then I find these in the School.” Shinoa took the age-yellowed pages, turning them over gently as she knelt in the grass. The ink was faded in places, and dark splotches covered portions of the pages. One paper had several diagrams etched in a careful hand; Shinoa could not understand the Constructs drawn there, she had never studied that kind of advanced spellcasting. She could see a similarity in the two diagrams, but nothing else. Shinoa turned her attention to another paper, this one with handwriting in an archaic human style.

     Dark stains obscured the top of the page, but the Blade Dancer could make out the rest of the text: _…traveled here in secret, as best possible, without word getting to the High-Priest. For in this single matter, my childhood friend would be forced to don the robes of office, and cast me from the ranks of the Holy. He may overlook most of my near-blasphemous beliefs, but when my actions become known to the rest of the Clergy, his hands will be tied._

     _I have delicately sought the company of a Dark Elven Priest; Dahvin seeks knowledge above all else. I need not fear him revealing the peculiar knowledge we seek - the logic appeals to his sharp mind, while traditions hold little weight therein. My other companion in this endeavor is known only as ‘Ellisen’. I know little else of the man, other than what is of import; he is a Necromancer with a thirst for knowledge equal to Dahvin’s._

     _Our meeting in Giran was arranged to leave no suspicions - seeking shelter at a crowded inn, the Mistress had no choice but to rent a single room to three strangers, as all her other beds were full. Warding the room carefully against eavesdropping allowed us to make the decision of **where** to conduct our… experiment. A location far from the eyes-and-ears of the Church, as well as away from the Tetrearch’s suspicions… The cloth map only held one such place: The School of the Dark Arts. _

     _Were it within my power, the fewest persons would have knowledge of our endeavor. As it were, four were necessary. Dahvin is the most critical element of our experiment. As an Elder of Shilen, he can interpret the threads of Holy magic as well as identify those of the Necrotic. The one element that I had no control over is our test subject. Ellisen has arranged for a nihilist to accompany us. As unsettling as it is to test my hypothesis on a human, the Death Mage had a point, “What better use for a death worshipper, who would willingly experience it?”_

     _I wish not to bring harm to the Church, but this knowledge **must** be mine. If I am correct, the Church will **have** to acknowledge that Necrotic magic is another application of the Holy Arts. I also include base diagrams drawn by Ellisen’s hand and mine; only the barest outlines of our respective Patterns were drawn, but even so the similarity is disturbing._

     “What does this mean?” The Blade Dancer looked back to the page of diagrams, “I can see somewhat of a similarity between these, but…” She looked to the Bishop and shrugged. Discerning minutiae in the construction of a Pattern was not her strength.

     Shadowhyn smiled, and shook her head, “That is the problem Shinoa. There should be _no_ similarity.”

     The young Dark Elf nodded, her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I see. After learning this, your investigation led you here, to the ruins of your homestead?”

     The Bishop nodded, “Indirectly, of course. I was scouring the Elven Ruins for information, and felt the same resonance there that I did here.” The woman stretched, gasping with the movement of her injured shoulder. “Of course, the Library was our destination in the first place, today… but before that, I need to go wash out these wounds.”

     Shinoa stood and helped the smaller woman to her feet, “Why don’t you heal yourself?” she asked softly, suspecting she already knew the answer.

     “If I eased myself of a _little_ pain like this,” Shadowhyn’s voice was hollow, “I would dishonor our Sister’s memory.”

    

***

    

     The light glittered through the trees, casting playful shadows across the path the two women had encamped beside. It was morning, the freshness of the morning dew dampening the air as well the women’s clothes that they had left out to dry the previous night. There was a light breeze, carrying the scent of the ocean from the shore of the island, serving to bring the young Blade Dancer out of her slumber.

     “Mmm, ugh, so tired...” Shinoa said, rubbing her eyes. She sniffed idly, her amber eyes looking more dull than usual. She swung her legs out of her bedroll, pushing herself to her feet. Grunting as she stretched, she glanced around, scratching idly at her stomach. Her eyes fell on her blued plate. “I should probably clean this out, after what happened yesterday,” she said as she picked up her armor. The bluish metal was still streaked and stained with blood from the creatures she had to kill the day before.

     “That would be a good idea, Sister, you might as well wash up, too.” the Bishop said with a smile, pulling her hair back into a knot. “I washed my clothes last night while you were sleeping!”

     Shinoa huffed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m young, I need my sleep, no?”

     Shadowhyn laughed again, gently, pulling a notebook out of her pack. “You’ll feel better after you freshen up. I’ll stay here, I need to write some things down while I’m thinking of them. If you walk down the path and head to the right,” she pointed, “there is a river there with fresh water.”

     After strapping her dagger to her leg, and hoisting her sheathes and armor over her shoulder, Shinoa looked back at the Bishop. “Shadow... thank you for telling me—”

     Shadowhyn looked up, “What was, what? Yes?”

     “—About how Thainn renamed you,” Shinoa finished with a wolfish grin.

     Shadowhyn scoffed, rolling her eyes. She waved Shinoa away, “Go wash, you smell like a wolf!” She put her pen in her mouth, using her hands to ready her ink-well, flipping to the latest page in her journal. She watched the young Dark Elf walk away before turning to her book, a bemused smile on her face.

     _The day that filled my heart with dread for a decade has come and gone, and my mind has been eased a little. I was quite certain that, had Ulana’s sister rejected my memories as a lie, I might have died of grief. How I wish I could have met the Dark Elf woman who bore three such like-minded children; first Dhub and Ulana watching over me, and now the fiery young Shinoa has promised to continue their watch-care… I felt the weight of years lift from my shoulders ever so briefly when Shinoa said those three potent words; ‘I believe you.’_

     _I felt dizzy after our talk, and washed my wounds in the river. When the dizziness remained, I suggested we camp in the field close to my old homestead. My dreams last night were more vivid than usual… It must have been from sleeping so close to the homestead’s resonance, as well as the faint echoing I feel from Shinoa. My dreams… no… I cannot call them ‘dreams’ and still be faithful to the word. My_ lucid nightmares _were more forceful than before; normally I would wake as those damned souls began wailing in agony, but last night… last night I felt Ulana die again, felt the sudden severing of her Spirit… felt that searing pain cutting through my chest._

     _When I did wake, I was clutching at my side and shoulder, my scar throbbing beneath my tunic. I feel weaker than I did yesterday… I think one or both of my wounds from the Blade Spider are infected. I’ll have the Priest heal me when we return to town._

     _For the first time in a long time, I have some hope that…_

    

***

    

     Shinoa came to the riverbank with the sun rising slowly overhead. She looked around quickly before tentatively sniffing at her arm, curling her lip slightly. _Hmmm, well I suppose I_ could _do with a wash_ , she thought as she laid her swords against a large rock, wading into the shallows of the river, pulling her armor slowly in after her. Blood and grit washed down stream as the young Drow worked her hand through the joints, sussing out small pieces of gristle and flesh. After rubbing the plates down with the palm of her hand, she set her armor out on the rocks by her swords. _That should dry quickly enough in the sun_.

     She rinsed her hands clean once more before tending to her hair. She wore her white-platinum mane pulled up in a tight bun, wrapped with a long braid. This was function over form; piled atop her head as it was, it could not trip her up in battle, inhibit her vision in any way. She pulled the braid loose, shaking it down well past her shoulders. She breathed in deeply, her skin prickling with the icy water washing around her knees. Her _shoufa_ was laying around her neck, she pulled it away from her throat as she knelt into the river. Cupping her hands, she brought up a handful of water and splashed it across her face. Working methodically, she rinsed out her hair, being careful not to get bloodied water in her eyes. _Well... I might as well take a light swim while I’m here, I’m sure she won’t mind..._ she said to herself as she waded deeper into the stream.

     The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled, her ears twitching as her eyes danced, her body movements still peaceful, fluid. Shinoa turned to rake her gaze across the shore; she felt as if she was being watched, her current position left her somewhat... exposed. She looked longingly toward her weapons, which lay propped up a rock near her armor. _Could have been the wind..._ she said to herself, shaking her head. Her instincts had yet to mislead her. Turning away again, she waded deeper into the river. She felt like she was still being watched as a cold hand of fear slowly drew itself down her spine. Breathing in deeply, she filled her chest with air and dove below the surface of the water. Her amber eyes rapidly adjusted themselves to the dark river bottom. Gathering her legs, she kicked gracefully, propelling herself quickly upstream. The fish darted away from her as she moved further up the river. Pulling up short, she floated in the dim waters, her hair drifting around her head.

     Working her way toward shore, the young Dark Elf unstrapped the dagger at her side. Coming out of the water slowly and glancing back toward her original position on shore, Shinoa pulled the _shoufa_ up over her face, veiling everything except her eyes. Her hair clung to her shoulders and chest as well as her smallclothes. She quickly pulled it back, wrapping it in a topknot. _Now to see who that was._ She stalked silently back to where her armor lay downstream.

     Coming slowly back through the trees, Shinoa saw a figure standing near her armor and weapons, with one of its hands rubbing its head. _Confused? Missed me!_ She crouched low, pulling her dagger up, ready to strike. _No blades visible, could be a mage._ Speed would be critical. She dashed forward, dagger held back. The figure turned at the sound of her approach; she ducked, leaping, vaulting their shoulder, twisting them around with her hands, her momentum, as she flipped; landing lightly before them, they stumble as they turn; she dashes again, spins, bringing her legs around, under her, catching the figure by its throat in her left hand, knees to its chest; they tumble, she readies her knife to strike, when they fall her weight will drive it home. She looks them in the eyes to see them die; she sees—

     “ _Lysander!_ ” The blade stopped a hair’s breadth from the young man’s throat. His eyes went wide as Shinoa growled his name; he had tried to move his arms to protect himself, but she was too fast, too nimble, and now she was kneeling on his chest, pinning his arms to his body. She was close now, leaning over him, and her armor was over… He tried not to look away from her piercing amber eyes. Shinoa blushed as she smacked the boy for his wandering gaze. “What are you doing here? I thought Shadowhyn sent you home!”

     Lysander blushed, his face turning beet red. “I… I… Miss Shinoa could you please let me up?” he said, squirming slightly under the Drow’s legs.

     Pulling her _shoufa_ down, unveiling her face, the young elf slowly stood, scowling at the human. “Well I’m off you now, get up.”

     “I had to, uh, see you again. I forgot to tell Sister Shadowhyn, uh, something...” the young man said, pulling himself up, brushing the dirt of his clothes. He ruffled his brown hair, eyes wandering to where the Drow stood, arms crossed in defiance, and slight annoyance.

     “That was dangerous, and _rude_ ; I would have killed you if I had not seen your face!” She swept back her loose hair in anger, her eyes alight.

     Lysander shifted his feet, afraid the young Drow would have the knife again to his throat in a heartbeat. “Many apologizes miss! I-I—”

     “Stop it. You’re making me feel worse now!” Shinoa said walking over to pick up her armor, slinging her scabbards over her shoulder. “Come now, we will go back to Shadowhyn and you can explain to her why you were... _here_ …” she said, casting an odd glance towards the man. Lysander gulped, not sure of what to make of what she said, or her glance.

    

***

    

     “You did _what?_ ” the red-haired woman shouted, looking at the two young adults standing before her. “Lysander! I thought I told you to run home! Why were you following us? Out with it!”

     The young man scratched his head, “I came to tell you... uh, well, I can’t remember what it was, now...” Shinoa covered her mouth with her hand, a smile tugging at her lips.

     “And _you_ , young lady!” Shadowhyn whirled towards the young Drow pointing her pen at her, “no smirking! You’re just as guilty, going around trying to kill someone without making sure they’re a combatant!” Shinoa’s mouth opened in protest, crossing her arms across her chest. Lysander looked sidelong at her, smiling to himself. “This isn’t the mainland! And don’t let me catch you smiling Lysander, I already have a thing or two to tell your mother, young man!” The Bishop was clearly beside herself as she set her things down before turning on the two youngsters.

     “I think you two don’t realize the dangers loose in this region of the Island. Lysander, you should know better! You _live_ here! Maybe your friends don’t tell the same stories that mine did, I know I’ve been gone for years but I _still_ know better than to wander through the woods without a weapon,” Shadowhyn’s voice barely slowed as she turned on the young Dark Elf, “and you; I know it’s your culture—and I can’t fault you for that—but other people live on this Island! You can’t go traipsing around the bushes in your smallclothes and not— _I told you to look at me Lysander!_ —expect to attract some attention!”

     Lysander jumped and quickly planted his eyes on the small woman’s face. Shadowhyn glanced at Shinoa and motioned toward a copse beyond their campsite, “Please get dressed while I ask Lysander about his business.” Shinoa nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment, and brushed past the Trader’s son as she picked up her armor and walked to the grove. At the Dark Elf’s contact Lysander’s face turned a shade of pink, which only grew to a deeper shade of red when he noticed Shadowhyn’s knowing look. “Have a seat, Lysander,” the Bishop sat beside the campfire gingerly, favoring her wounded leg. The young man dropped to the earth across from her, and stared at the fire, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

     “M-my apologies,” he began, “b-but—”

     “No Lysander, I must apologize.” He stopped, and looked up at the red-haired woman’s chagrined face. “You must forgive my outburst,” Shadowhyn said, “I did not mean to berate you both so harshly… I am feeling… weak… and my fear of being unable to protect you or Shinoa led me to overreact.” She sighed as she dropped a bundle of sticks on the ailing fire, and watched as it blazed brighter with the dry kindling. “Bishops are to remain at peace and in control… I find I seldom can do either.” She looked up at Lysander, whose confused expression caused her to smile. “I am rambling again, it seems. What brought you back out here? Weren’t the Blade Spiders enough excitement for quite some time?”

     Lysander opened his mouth to speak, but a rustling noise from the thicket caused him to pause. Shadowhyn turned and watched as Shinoa stepped out of the brush, tightening a strap at her hip as she walked. “Well… Uh…” Lysander’s voice faltered as he searched for what to say.

     Shadowhyn laughed, and turned back to face their visitor. “Well now, I believe I’m beginning to see the connection here.” She sighed as Lysander’s face flushed a bright red, and smiled, “I’m sorry, I did not mean to embarrass you.”

     He shook his head, “No, no it’s—”

     “So,” Shinoa interrupted as she knelt next to Shadowhyn, “Why _did_ you come back, Lysander?” His mouth opened, but no words emerged.

     “Gently now,” Shadowhyn said, patting the young Dark Elf’s arm, “Master Lysander walked all the way here to ask us what provisions we might need.” Shinoa glanced over at the Bishop in surprise, and the young man just gaped at the woman.

     “Y-yes, th-that was—” he stuttered.

     “As we ate most of the food the good Mistress Truthbearer provided for us yesterday,” Shadowhyn continued as she pulled her shoulder bag close, “I was going to have him bring us enough for a light breakfast, and a good-sized lunch.” The woman pulled a small pouch from her satchel, as well as a furled paper tied with a red ribbon. “This should be enough for the food, as well as a little extra for your time, Lysander.”

     He stared at the pouch and the scroll that she placed in his hands for a moment before nodding. Standing to his feet, Lysander bowed awkwardly to Shinoa, “F-forgive my trespass earlier, miss, I m-meant no disrespect.” She nodded, her own face gaining a slight pinkish tone. Lysander bowed again to Shadowhyn, “Thank you, Sister Shadowhyn.”

     She nodded, still smiling, “We’ll be awaiting your return.” He smiled back at the woman, and pulled the ribbon from the scroll. As he vanished in a blaze of blue-white flame, the Blade Dancer turned to face Shadowhyn, crossing her arms as she shifted her weight. Shadowhyn quickly held up a hand, “Please, I must apologize first for the way I spoke to you.” The Bishop shifted her own weight, straightening her legs slightly. “I had no right to speak to you in such a manner. As I told Lysander, I let my fear overwhelm me. I was wrong to treat you so.”

     Shinoa’s eyes softened and she placed a hand on the Bishop’s shoulder, “There has been no offense that requires my forgiveness,” the young Dark Elf said quietly. “I just wondered what he had said…” She ran a finger along the length of her ear, rubbing the pointed tip gently between her thumb and forefinger, “I could hear you clearly, but _him_ … I didn’t hear much from him.” She gazed at Shadowhyn, and arched an eyebrow.

     The Bishop laughed, “With age comes understanding, young one.” Shadowhyn grinned at Shinoa before turning to put her pen and ink-well into her shoulder bag. The woman paused and glanced over her shoulder at Shinoa; the Dark Elf was staring at the pathway where Lysander had Escaped. “I shall introduce you to the Trader Jackson and his wife tonight,” Shadowhyn said.

     Shinoa started, her face flushing red, “ _What?_ Why? What would be the point of—” Shadowhyn shook her head and laughed, packing her bag as Shinoa continued to protest.

    

***

    

     “…and then Mauldis jumps onto the Doom Knight’s back, kicks its head out of its hand,” Shinoa laughed as she tried to tell the story, “and we start tossing it around. Then Pendragon hits it with his Lance,” the Dark Elf made a swinging motion, “and sends it flying out over the cliff!” Shadowhyn coughed as she began laughing with a mouthful of bread. Shinoa grinned maliciously as the Bishop struggled to swallow.

     Wiping a tear from her eye, Shadowhyn shook her finger at the Blade Dancer, “You did that on purpose!” Lysander laughed quietly, listening with rapt attention to the young Drow’s tales.

     The three sat around the small campfire the women had built the night before, a pot of thin soup simmering as it hung over the flames. Lysander had returned to the campsite at a quick run, the purchased food in a burlap sack at his hip. Fresh water retrieved from the stream and some slices of meat and vegetables went into the pot the Trader’s son had brought along. “ _I th-thought you both might l-like a hot breakfast_ ,” he had stammered quietly, blushing at the thanks he received for his consideration. Shinoa had eaten quickly, then began telling of the Guild’s recent activities. Shadowhyn sat and listened of her Guild Sister’s exploits, while Lysander was enthralled by the tales of adventure and glory. Shadowhyn smiled to herself; she noticed how Lysander barely looked away from Shinoa, while the young Dark Elf seemed to be relating the stories directly to him.

     The Bishop looked up. The sun was moderately high; it was time for them to head for the Library. The sky to the north was mostly clear, with scattered clouds obscuring the blue beyond. The southern sky was dark as a mass of thunderheads crawled toward the Island, lightnings flickering between the great, black roiling clouds. Shadowhyn looked down, and took one last sip of her soup. Her stomach grumbled in protest. Lysander and Shinoa glanced over at the red-haired woman, and she patted her stomach and smiled. “Even though my belly disagrees, it’s time we started for the Library.” With a certain satisfaction, Shadowhyn noted the disappointment that played across both her companion’s faces. “But don’t worry. Lysander, be sure to tell your parents that we would love to have your family dine with us tonight.”

     The delighted astonishment that filled his face caused Shadowhyn to grin, and Shinoa to blush slightly. “I-I will!” Lysander exclaimed.

     The sun had crept a little higher in the sky before the party reached the entrance to the Elven Ruins. The western path took an abrupt southern curve, and dead-ended in a short, narrow valley. High rocks bordered the path, encircled as it was by the Island’s western mountain range. The Library entrance was built into the very rock itself; a grand marble palisade rising a hundred spans above the stony path, the innermost pillars and many portions of the façade having collapsed with the brutal passage of time. All but the highest frescoes were faded to shades of gray, the rest of the entryway’s color having been bleached away by the sun. The Library itself had become just one more corpse, as had those who once walked its halls.

     Lysander swallowed noisily. Even having grown up on the Island, and having heard of the Library since before he was old enough to walk, hadn’t prepared him for the sobering reality of standing before the decaying institution itself. Shadowhyn reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright Lysander, you don’t—” She shuddered despite herself; the stagnant unholiness of the Ruin’s inhabitants caused her head to swim with a primal fear.

     Shinoa grasped the smaller woman’s upper arm as she wavered, bracing the Bishop as her knees buckled. “Shadowhyn!” the young Dark Elf’s voice was taut with uncertainty, “Are you alright?”

     The Bishop grunted as she forced her legs to steady, “Yes, yes, don’t mind me,” She patted the Blade Dancer’s hand reassuringly, “Just… sensitive to this area.” The red-haired woman turned to face the Trader’s son, “Now, Master Lysander, you have accompanied us far, and we thank you. But,” Shadowhyn held up a finger, “I _forbid_ you to follow us into the Ruins. Do I make myself clear?”

     Lysander swallowed, “Yes ma’am, I understand.”

     Shadowhyn smiled, “Good. Head back to town, we’ll be there later.” The Bishop and the Blade Dancer strode toward the Library entrance, and Shadowhyn turned to look over her shoulder and wave, “Remember now, your family is to eat with our Guild tonight.”

     Lysander nodded, “Aye Sister, I remember.” Shinoa paused at the foot of the stairs as Shadowhyn took the steps two at a stride, and turned to look down the canyon’s path. Lysander grinned and waved; Shinoa smiled, and raised a hand in return.

     Shadowhyn knelt at the Library’s entrance, her staff laid across her knees as she raised her clasped hands to her face in prayer. Shinoa crouched beside the pale woman, and cleared her mind as she had so many times before entering battle. After a long moment of silence, the Bishop stood. Shinoa sprang to her feet. “Onward,” Shadowhyn said as she swung the great wrought iron door inward, its aged hinges protesting.

“And downward,” Shinoa responded, her voice swallowed by the pitch black of the Ruin

    

*****


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

     The cool air of the Library was refreshing; the scent it carried was not. Several torches were fastened to the wall, lending their bright yellow-red light to the dark stone corridor. The hallway ran forward into the darkness, several doorways on the right and left side marking other rooms and passageways. The damp air fostered the growth of moss on the flat stone surfaces, while lichen spread across the ceiling. Shinoa took the lead, her burnished-gold eyes glistening in the dimness of the Ruin. She swiftly glanced over the antechamber, determining if any immediate danger existed, before turning to see to the Bishop.

     Shadowhyn descended slowly, her face pained when her weight rested on her injured leg. She tried to support herself on her staff, but the slick stone of the steps made her efforts mostly useless. Shinoa held up a hand, which the smaller woman gratefully accepted, and questioned, “Are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

     Shadowhyn nodded, not at all reassuring. “Yes, I’m fine. My wounds make me feel a bit… dizzy. And the resonance I normally feel here is slightly magnified by your presence—” the Bishop saw the worried look in Shinoa’s eye, “Oh no, no, it’s alright. It’s merely a little disconcerting.”

     The Blade Dancer frowned, not convinced in the least, “As you say, _old one_.” The young Dark Elf’s sly grin earned her a laugh.

     “Oh yes, quite right,” the Bishop chuckled, “I forgot how quickly the human body fails with age.”

     A rustling noise from the dark beyond the torchlight caused the women to pause and listen. The blades of Shinoa’s swords barely whispered as she pulled them from the sheaths strapped to her back, and the cold iron glittered in the torchlight as she held an arm to guard the Bishop. “Careful now,” the Blade Dancer muttered, “There’s more than one.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, and tightened her grip on her staff. Shinoa reached for the nearest torch, but the Bishop shook her head. “No need for that,” she smiled before rattling off a quick incantation. Runes inscribed into the aged wood of the Bishop’s staff flared a bright, warm white, flooding the corridor with light.

     Shadows cast from the Dark Elf’s body played over the bleached bones of a pair of skeletons stumbling down the hallway. Empty eye-sockets stared towards the pair of adventurers for several long moments before the Undead began moving toward the warmth of living flesh and bone. Shinoa flexed her knees, rotating her left shoulder forward, bringing her sword point around to bear on her targets. “ _Wait_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered, “we mustn’t prolong their suffering.” The Bishop took a step around the Blade Dancer, ignoring the Dark Elf’s protests. The leading skeleton turned its head, fixing its empty gaze on the woman walking toward them. The skeleton sprang forward as the Bishop raised her hand, rapidly covering the ground between them as a small golden-yellow Construct flared to life in her palm.

     The skeleton immediately slowed as the red-haired woman whispered, “ _Peace_ ,” pausing once it stood in front of her. Shadowhyn gently touched its forehead, the same golden-yellow light engulfing its form on contact. Shinoa raised her arm, shielding her eyes from the brightness. “Even unfortunate souls as these,” Shadowhyn said as she pulled away from the creature, turning to the second skeleton and extending her hand. The first skeleton stood still for a moment, as if stunned, before collapsing to the floor in a pile of loose bone. The other Undead slowed its advance, coming to a halt before the Bishop. It stared at her outstretched hand, “…deserve to be given their final peace,” Shadowhyn said softly as the skeleton put its hand in hers. The golden light swept over its body, sending a tremor through the creature before it fell to the floor.

     Shadowhyn turned to face Shinoa, tears glistening in her eyes. “If we are unable to avoid an encounter,” she said as she clung to her staff with both hands, “let me… release them.” She sighed, and slumped against the corridor wall, taking a deep breath.

     “Are you alright?” Shinoa asked, stepping over the piles of bone.

     “Yes… Cleansing them consumes a lot of my strength,” Shadowhyn admitted, looking down at the stone floor. “Ever since that night, I have been unable to harm one such as them.” Her cheeks flushed in shame, “Ever since then, I’ve tried to relieve their suffering.” Shadowhyn looked up at the Blade Dancer, “I hope I didn’t worry you.”

     Shinoa laughed, “Well, truthfully, you did. But I understand your reasons.”

     Shadowhyn smiled, “Thank you for worrying about me… and for preparing to protect me.”

     Shinoa rubbed the back of her neck as she eyed the Bishop quizzically, “Of course I would protect you!”

     Shadowhyn laughed with the Drow as she pushed herself away from the wall, pulling herself to her feet with her staff, “Again, thank you.” She stretched, before beginning to trace a Pattern in the air between them. “As I haven’t the strength to Cleanse every Undead in the Library, I’ll have to set a Ward to repel them.” Shinoa nodded as the Bishop finished her Pattern, and waited as the woman recited the incantation. The Construct that appeared in the air above the Bishop’s head shone like a miniature sun; the red-haired woman grinned at the Dark Elf. “Also, the fact that it doubles as a torch is beneficial.”

     Shadowhyn turned away from the entrance, “Do you know much about the Ruin, Shinoa?” The Blade Dancer fell in step with the Bishop, and shook her head at the question. “Well, this used to be a place of learning for the Light Elves, much like your own School of the Dark Arts… But at some time in the past, some cataclysm of magic destroyed the Library.” The two stopped at a small flight of stairs leading into a square room about twice as wide as the corridor. Three skeletons trudged aimlessly in the center of the room.

     “What could have destroyed this place?” Shinoa asked as she readied her swords.

     “I’m really not sure,” the Bishop replied as she stepped into the room. The skeletons turned to face the intruders, but were blinded by the Construct’s light. As Shadowhyn advanced, the Undead fled. “I’ve not been able to learn much about that time,” Shadowhyn said as they walked down the ramp leading deeper into the Ruin, “but I have been able to unearth one or two manuscripts that make mention of the magics they were researching… Translating them is immensely difficult.” The woman laughed, “I was never that good with ancient languages.”

     “You… didn’t ask Rhianwen for help?” Shinoa stopped the smaller woman, placing a hand on her arm, “You _know_ any of our Guild would gladly—”

     “It is _too dangerous_ ,” Shadowhyn stated, “I cannot… lose anyone else.” She twisted her staff, absentmindedly grinding some pebbles against the stone floor, “You… you are the first to know my fears, Shinoa,” the Bishop said quietly, “I don’t know how much DragonClaw knows of the true circumstances of Ulana’s death… I never really asked her, especially after I started my research… but I can’t risk anyone else… I-I just _can’t_.” She looked up at the young Dark Elf, “I promised myself that I _would_ tell you, because you deserved to know,” she looked down at the floor, “and even as painful as it would have been, I secretly hoped you would not believe me… so that you would not be in danger if my theories were correct.”

     Shinoa sheathed her blades as she turned to face the Bishop, and she gently placed her hands on the smaller woman’s shoulders, “You carry too much weight for one person to bear.”

     Shadowhyn adjusted her grip on her staff, “But I—”

     “You must _trust_ those you love to be able to help you face this danger.”

     Shadowhyn was quiet; the only sound came from the tip of her staff tapping on the cool stone. “Perhaps…” she whispered, after a long moment, “I should share my burdens with them.”

     “Yes,” Shinoa smiled, “perhaps you should.” The young Dark Elf tilted her head in thought, “Wait… you said the _true_ circumstances of Ulana’s death? What do you mean?” Shinoa asked, a tightness in her voice, “You told me that she died protecting you!”

     “That _is_ true, Shinoa,” Shadowhyn said calmly, placing a hand on the Blade Dancer’s shoulder, “The _Soulless_ … She… lost too much blood… and I was too weak to keep her alive. What I should have said was the true _cause_ of her death.”

     Shinoa was quiet, considering, “You mean, what made her begin bleeding in the first place.” Shadowhyn nodded.

     “I always believed it to be my fault,” the Bishop said slowly, “that Ulana was hurt by my Healing _because_ I’d twisted Mass Resurrection… I still _feel_ it is my fault, though intellectually I _know_ my Healing wasn’t the original cause… It was merely a catalyst that accelerated her condition.” The pair resumed their slow walk through the dank corridor, entering a round chamber perhaps ten paces wide, with a dark hallway leading to the right.

     “When I began my research, I was forced to look at her condition objectively… for instance, the Seal on her back… did you ever see it?” Shinoa nodded as they entered the hallway, her eyes rapidly adjusting to the dim light. “Did you ever see what it covered?” Shadowhyn asked quietly.

     Shinoa slowed, coming to a stop as she searched her memory, “I… no… not clearly. I caught a glimpse that night, but I was more worried that she would die, and I didn’t think to look when I had that vision,” the Blade Dancer said, looking over at the Bishop. “I did see the Seal, many times over the next few days.”

     “Ulana hid the fact that her Seal was… weakening, or breaking,” Shadowhyn’s voice quivered as she spoke, “and the Construct… the Dark Magic that had been sealed caused her to begin hemorrhaging. I also believe the Dark Magic’s taint caused my Healing to injure her... among other things.” The red-haired woman sighed, “When we met the Tetrearch, she spoke of being in pain, and that something was wrong… I thought nothing of it until much later. Whatever happened to her during her Trials was killing her, and the Seal was all that kept her alive.”

     “Y-you mean…” Shinoa’s voice caught in her throat as she realized, “Ulana was dying… ever since that night? That’s…”

     “Yes, I believe she was,” Shadowhyn said as she put her arms around the young Dark Elf, “her life was cut short… and I believe this ‘Ancient One’, as you called him, is responsible.”

     “If he still exists,” Shinoa said haltingly, through her tears, “I will have my vengeance… and perhaps save others from my Sister’s fate.” She returned the small woman’s hug, briefly, before they resumed their walk. “Do you think the Dark Magic made her become a Summoner?” the Blade Dancer asked suddenly.

     “How do you mean?” Shadowhyn replied, confused by the Drow’s question.

     “Well, Ulana always spoke about becoming the most powerful Spellhowler of our family… and when she came back from her Trials, she was driven to become a Phantom Summoner.”

     “It… it is possible,” Shadowhyn said thoughtfully, “I’d never considered the fact.” The Bishop laughed, “She was exceptionally powerful as a Summoner… and as they call their servitors from the Darkness, I could see how her Domain being forcibly changed could enable that level of strength.”

     The women found a wide passageway on the right side of the darkened corridor, which led down a flight of stairs to the Library itself. A vast two-storied room spread out before them, littered with bookshelves in varying states of condition. “Is this…?” Shinoa gasped, amazed at the ruined beauty before her eyes. Several pedestals were grouped in the center of the room, but only two displayed more than delicate fragments of Elven sculpture; the pedestals encircled a great globe, with the continent of Aden etched into the rusted brass sphere. Age-faded paintings—some torn, some whole—were hanging in niches around the room, and the craftsmanship of the bookshelves was astounding, clearly visible even in their mostly demolished state. “Yes… the Elven Library,” Shadowhyn said softly.

     Shinoa quickly descended the staircase, eager to look for any clues. As her foot touched the floor of the Library promenade, the young Dark Elf shuddered at a nauseating wave of vertigo that swept through her body. “Wha—?” She choked as the room spun around her.

     “Shinoa? What’s wro—!” Shadowhyn stepped to the Blade Dancer’s side, and fell to the floor as the dark magic resonance between them tore the air with a thundering roar.

    

***

    

     The sun stretched low over the ruins of the Elven Library, casting long shadows from the trees. Leaves stirred along the grass as Lysander crept slowly toward the entrance. His cloak billowed suddenly around him bringing a chill to his spine. _I know I shouldn’t have waited..._ he said to himself, fingering his back-pack strap. Running his hand through his short hair, Lysander shivered as he looked up at the ruined Library entrance. _I know she told me to leave, but…_ He dropped his gaze down to his feet and sighed. Thoughts of the Blade Dancer were hard to push away, and with every thought his face turned a deeper shade of red. _They said they’d eat with us tonight… I’d better go let Ma know._

     Turning away from the Ruin, the trader’s son began walking the path leading out of the narrow valley. The sun had since fallen behind the high cliff walls, shrouding the pathway in shadows, but sunlight from the fields beyond the path’s bend beckoned. Tugging his cloak tight around his shoulders, Lysander hurriedly walked the dark trail. _There’s nothing here… Nothing to be afraid of…_ The sound of a footstep to his left made him jump and turn to peer into the darkness. His hand fumbled for the knife at his belt, and a cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Taking deep, silent breaths, Lysander slowly looked about. A dark patch of shadow seemed to flicker, and he froze. “Who-who’s there?” he called, his eyes darting about. Another soft footstep came from behind him, from the direction of the Library, and he turned around, his knife held at the ready.

     A black-cloaked figure stood on the path, the figure’s face hidden in the cloak’s deep cowl. Lysander’s arm shook as he raised his knife, “Who—” The black-cloaked figure flickered, and was gone. Lysander gasped, and turned to run. Another black-cloaked figure was standing on the path before him, and Lysander cried out in shock. _How?! Is that the same one? What is he?!_ Terrified, Lysander plunged off the path into the thick wood, hoping to make it straight to the village. His heart pounded in his ears as he ran, stumbling over roots, breaking through bushes and tree branches. His sides ached from running, his breathing hoarse. Ahead, he could see the edge of the forest, the sunlight streaming through the leaves.

     A blur cast an instant’s shadow, and the black figure appeared before him. Lysander wheeled back in shock, stumbling as he tried to change the course of his run. The figure flickered again, and the sunlight shone brightly through the spot where it had been. Lysander shook his head, and picked up his pace, aiming for the open field beyond the wood. _Maybe it can’t get me out th—!_ A shove from behind lifted him off his feet, and his left side bounced off a tree trunk. A dull crunch echoed in his ears, and he screamed as his collarbone and several ribs gave way at the impact. Gasping, he stumbled to another tree, leaning his head against the sturdy trunk. He felt a tingle in his left side, and he shook his head to clear the pain of running into the tree. _What hit me?_ He coughed, and groaned as a new pain clenched his stomach. _Wha… what is this?_

     Lysander looked down at a length of bloodied bone sticking out from his chest. Gingerly, he touched the bone’s sharp point and cried out at the pain that coursed through his body from jostling the spike. _Am I going to— No… I-It can’t…_ Pushing away from the tree with his right arm, Lysander stumbled to another tree closer to the forest edge. Moving his legs brought new pain, and he fell to his knees. _I can’t…_ A flicker next to him announced the black-cloaked figure’s arrival. A deep, empty voice, like the rustling of leaves in a newly dug grave, captured his attention. “ **Come with me.** ”

     “ _No_ …” Lysander struggled to whisper as the dark figure laid a hand on his shoulder. “Shin?... Help me—”

     The grass bent aside as the dark figure slid away, dragging another shape behind.

    

***

    

     Shinoa blinked, her golden eyes rapidly adjusting to the low level of light in the room. A dull, steady throb from the side of her head slowly brought her attention back to her physical position. It took some concentration, but she focused her eyes on the far wall. _Strange,_ she thought, _I don’t recall lichen growing on… Wait…_ She turned her head, and saw Shadowhyn’s crumpled form lying next to her on the floor. _We fell? What… what was that?_ She sat up too quickly, immediately regretting it. Putting her elbows on her knees, she buried her head in her hands and groaned as it threatened to split in half. After a minute of rocking back and forth, the ache behind her eyes had subsided enough for her to see to the Bishop.

     Rolling over onto her hands and knees, Shinoa steadied herself before pushing up off the floor. Almost mechanically, she went through the motions of checking her swords, sheath straps, and the joints of her armor. Years of training had ingrained those inspections, and they were complete by the time she’d stumbled to Shadowhyn’s side. Crouching next to the smaller woman, the Dark Elf brushed her loose white hair over her ears as she peered at the Bishop. Shadowhyn was pale, more so than when they had entered the ruins. _Is that from the Dark Magic we felt?_ Shinoa wondered as she checked the woman’s neck for a pulse, _It’s weak, but there._ The Blade Dancer’s smile faded quickly when she saw the stone floor next to the human.

     Shinoa slipped her hands under Shadowhyn’s left shoulder and lifted, rolling the Bishop onto her right side. Blood had soaked the bandage tied above her left arm, and pooled under the frail woman’s injured shoulder. _Her fall must have re-opened the wound._ Muttering an oath, Shinoa deftly untied the bandage and tossed the soiled cloth away. After digging through the Bishop’s shoulder bag for the roll of clean bandages, Shinoa poured a measure of water from their water-skin over the wound to wash the blood away. Swiftly tying a new bandage over the wound, Shinoa knotted the cloth and rolled Shadowhyn onto her back. “Shadowhyn,” the Dark Elf said softly, gently shaking the woman’s uninjured shoulder, “can you hear me?” The Bishop groaned softly, and Shinoa tried again to wake her.

     “N-no…” Shadowhyn mumbled, “It’s too early.”

     Shinoa grinned despite her worry, “Time to get up, Shadow,” she chuckled.

     The smaller woman weakly waved her hand, and tried to roll onto her side, “Just ten more minutes, then I’ll…” she interrupted herself with a yawn, “then I’ll get u—” Shadowhyn gasped as she moved her left arm, pulling on the wound.

     “Wait,” Shinoa said, “just lay there, if you get up too quickly—!”

     Shadowhyn sat up and looked around, her eyes wide. She wobbled a bit, and turned to look at Shinoa. She winced, putting her hands up to her head, “Oh… I… sat up too fast.”

     Shinoa laughed, and held out the water-skin, “Here, drink some of this.” Shadowhyn took the water and gingerly sipped at it, while Shinoa stood and looked around the room.

     “What do you suppose that was?” Shinoa asked, stretching to ease her stiff joints. The Blade Dancer looked down to see Shadowhyn staring across the Library floor toward a set of stairs leading to a room deeper in the Ruin.

     “I… don’t know,” she said quietly, “It felt like a Ward of some kind?” She shook her head before groaning and placing a hand on the back of her head. “The resonance is far stronger today than any other time I’ve been here,” Shadowhyn looked up at Shinoa, “perhaps it will lead us somewhere. But first…” Shinoa held out a hand as the red-haired woman attempted to stand, “we came looking for manuscripts dealing with the magic being studied here.” Shadowhyn brushed the dust from her tunic and stockings as Shinoa held her elbow in support, “Let’s start with these bookcases, shall we?”

     “Are you alright?” Shinoa asked, the worry evident in her voice. Despite her best efforts, the headstrong Bishop still walked without assistance among the many broken bookshelves.

     “What? Oh, yes, yes,” Shadowhyn replied absentmindedly as she bent over to examine the books lining a lower shelf. She reached for a stack of papers on the floor. Her balance wavered, and Shinoa threw an arm around the smaller woman’s waist before she could fall.

     “Are you lying to me, Shadowhyn?”

     At the young Dark Elf’s stern tone of voice, the red-haired human looked up, “No, no, I’m fine…” she turned back to the bookshelf, and rested her hand on the wooden frame, “just a little dizzy,” she added under her breath.

     “I heard that,” Shinoa stated, her voice flat as she crossed her arms across her polished sapphire-blue breastplate.

     Shadowhyn laughed, her voice strained, “Oh yes, quite right! I’d forgotten how keen your ears were, Ula… na…” The Bishop sighed, and straightened to look at the Blade Dancer, “I-I’m sorry, Shinoa.” She looked down at the floor, and began tracing a pattern in the dust with the tip of her staff, “You see… when I come down here… I-I _feel_ things…”

     Shinoa tilted her head to the side, and asked, “Things?”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Yes… from… from the Life-Bond… Or, at least, from where I could sense Ulana… I have these phantom sensations; sometimes I feel something like a presence, or hear… whispers, almost voices... It’s very confusing.”

     Shinoa laid a gauntleted hand on the smaller woman’s shoulder, “Are you alright?”

     Shadowhyn shrugged stiffly, “I am as well as I deserve.”

     “Why haven’t you had yourself examined?” Shinoa questioned, “You mentioned that people don’t survive the death of the one they were bonded with…”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “You are correct, I had never heard of a survivor.”

     “Then why—” the Blade Dancer asked before the Bishop interrupted, “—and that’s why I didn’t feel the need to be poked and prodded for the rest of my life.”

     Shinoa frowned, “I understand that you didn’t want the attention, but—”

     Shadowhyn’s hands shook as she clenched her fists, snarling, “ _No!_ You _don’t_ understand! I lost a part of _myself_ when Ulana died!” Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared down at her fists, “I’ve not felt the same since that night; I have a hole in my heart, and gaps in my memory…” The red-haired woman grabbed handfuls of her hair, and looked about with her eyes wide, desperation tingeing her voice, “I-I feel as if pieces of my _mind_ are missing!”

     “Shhh, easy now Shadowhyn, take some deep breaths,” Shinoa stepped forward to put her hands on the frail woman’s shoulders, before pulling her close to hug her, “It’s alright, I’m here for you.”

     “I-I’m so sorry Shinoa, I didn’t m-mean to yell at you,” the Bishop sobbed into the young Dark Elf’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, I j-just lose my temper a-and I don’t mean too... I don’t mean to get s-so angry…”

     Shinoa made comforting noises as she patted the smaller woman’s shoulder, “It’s alright Shadow.”

     Shadowhyn wiped tears from her eyes, “No, no, it’s not alright, I’m… not myself.”

     She sighed heavily, and Shinoa held her at arm’s length, gripping her upper arms to look her in the eye, “Can you tell me more?”

     The Bishop sniffled as she ran the edge of her hand under her eyes, “I don’t feel like I’m _in control_ … It’s like… something can just… can just… _twist_ my emotions, and I turn into a different person!”

     The sorrow on the human’s face was almost palpable; Shinoa leaned forward and placed a kiss on Shadowhyn’s forehead, “Regardless, I’m here to help.” She smiled at the Bishop, “I’ll keep an eye on you.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Alright, I’ll… try to trust you…” Shinoa raised an eyebrow. “Oh! No offence Shinoa, but I do believe I’m a bit more than what you can handle by yourself.” The Dark Elf laughed as she stooped to pick up the stack of papers the Bishop gestured toward.

     “So,” Shinoa grinned, “What exactly are we looking for?”

     Shadowhyn gasped, and the young Dark Elf turned to look at the Bishop. “I think we just found something!” the red-haired woman exclaimed, holding out the bundle of papers. “Look, right here!” the red-haired woman pointed at a series of symbols drawn on the parchment she held, “I recognize these from the Construct that was on Ulana’s back!”

     Shinoa stepped behind the Bishop, and examined the paper over her shoulder, “Can you read any of this?” Shadowhyn scratched her head as she looked over the page. Many of the notes written around the symbols had long since faded with age, and the conditional syntax of the Elven language didn’t help.

     “I think this rune here,” the woman said, tapping a finger on a paragraph scrawled close to the sigil, “translates to ‘black’… no, ‘black _ness_ ’… and I think this one here,” she slid her finger along a line of script, “stands for… ‘light’? Or maybe ‘sun’.” Shadowhyn sighed and looked back at Shinoa, “Many words have multiple meanings, which vary based on the context in which they’re used…” She turned back to the parchment in her hands, “I may not be able to make much of this, if too much of the text is missing.”

     “Well, I think you’re discouraging yourself,” Shinoa said gently, as she pointed to the bottom half of the page, “What do you make of those?” Four circular designs were drawn there, with perhaps a dozen varying runes placed around the outer and inner edges of each circle. Slightly different Patterns were contained within the circles, with the strokes and slashes of the Patterns dividing the symbols into groups.

     “They appear to be Constructs of some kind…” Shadowhyn said as she studied them, “And this one,” she motioned to the middle-left design, “has five symbols identical to Ulana’s Construct along the outer edge, and… I think these three symbols here,” she said as she indicated the upper symbols inside the Construct.

     “What kind of Patterns _are_ these?” Shinoa asked.

     “See how the markings of the Patterns separate the runes from each other?” Shadowhyn continued after Shinoa nodded, “I think the Construct is used to focus energy from these symbols on the outside into the runes on the inside… Or maybe it’s inside-to-outside.”

     Shinoa frowned, “I’ve never heard of a spell working like that.”

     The Bishop smiled, “Neither have I,” Shadowhyn admitted, “As a matter of fact, these symbols here fall within the Sacred Domain!” She pointed to a set of runes that were situated inside three of the four Constructs. “Now what kind of magic would be calling power from multiple Domains?” the red-haired woman pondered.

     “I’ve heard the Guild mages talking about an ‘Elemental Assault’,” Shinoa said, her voice hesitant, “but I don’t know what that entails.”

     “An ‘Elemental Assault’ would still not explain these particular Constructs,” Shadowhyn said gently, eyeing the parchment quizzically, “as the mages participating in such a combination would have separate Patterns to focus on.”

     Shinoa nodded, “Then perhaps we need to just look at these Constructs, and not compare them to anything else.” At the Bishop’s puzzled look, Shinoa continued, “How about the runes set in opposition?” She pointed over the Bishop’s shoulder at the right-most Construct, “This sigil here looks like the Drow pictograph for ‘wind’, perhaps it’s the Old Tongue equivalent… And this rune inside the Pattern is the one you said was labeled as ‘blackness’.”

     The young Dark Elf’s voice caught in her throat, and the human woman put a hand to her mouth in shocked realization, “What if it doesn’t mean ‘black’…” Shadowhyn said.

     “What if it stands for ‘Death’?” the Blade Dancer whispered, voicing the thought the two women shared.

     “These could be Conversion Constructs,” the Bishop exclaimed, “to realign a person’s Domain!”

     Shinoa frowned, “But you said none of these matched the Construct burned into Ulana’s back.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Based on the number of symbols here, there must be multiple elements that need to be adjusted to alter a specific person’s alignment,” the Bishop frowned, “and as Ulana’s Construct led to her death, it could have been… incorrect.”

     Shinoa grinned, “Even so, we found a clue, right? This is good?”

     Shadowhyn nodded slowly, “Yes… This is good… but also strange.”

     “What do you mean… too easy?” the young Dark Elf asked.

     “I’m… I’m almost positive… no, I’m quite certain,” Shadowhyn said, “that I’d looked through this section of the Library before.” She turned to look at Shinoa, “I don’t know why I wouldn’t have found these before.”

     “They were not—,” a grotesque voice coughed. Shadowhyn and Shinoa spun to look toward the speaker. Fluid bubbled in the speaker’s throat as its breath whistled through ragged holes in its face and neck. The oddly dressed ghoul cackled with mad laughter, “They were not there before today!”

     The Bishop stifled a scream as the young Dark Elf moved between the shocked woman and the creature that had appeared behind them. Her burnished sapphire gauntlets flashed in the torchlight as meter-long steel leapt from the scabbards at her back. “Wha… what…” Shadowhyn whimpered softly as she tried to focus her thoughts.

     “What do you mean, ghoul?” Shinoa questioned, holding a blade forward in warning.

     The creature coughed again, doubling over as the fit wracked its desiccated body, and laughed as vicious fluids dripped from its exposed skin, “I have been charged with locating any persons who inquire of certain… knowledge…” He waved in the red-haired woman’s direction, “and as she has been seeking this knowledge, it would be to my benefit to… end her pursuit.” The strange ghoul’s eyes narrowed briefly, “But now I can see that she already belongs to my Master; my efforts were unnecessary.”

     Shadowhyn gasped, “What do you mean by that!” The creature’s mad laughter echoed through the Library as the young Dark Elf swore under her breath,

     “What are you, creature?” Shinoa demanded.

     The ghoul raised an arm and pointed toward Shadowhyn, “I am what she will become.”

     Shadowhyn choked back a sob as Shinoa spat, “Watch your tongue, corpse!”

     “Ah, I _am_ a corpse, am I not?” the ghoul chuckled, “cursed to live a life such as this! I used to be a man…” he sighed, a sick whistling coming from his ruined throat as he labored to speak, “but now I am merely a shadow of my former self.” He raised his hands and looked down at the sleeves of his tattered robes, “My master… owns me, now. I could not resist his will even if I wanted.”

     “Your Master?” Shinoa narrowed her eyes, “Who is this ‘Master’ you keep mentioning?”

     The ghoul’s hysterical laughter echoed through the Library, “Who is my Master? Only the end of all hope! He has worn many faces in the last two thousand years, but his purpose is the same—” Another coughing fit choked the creature.

     “What purpose?” Shinoa demanded as Shadowhyn spoke, “Two thousand years? Are you that old?”

     The ghoul looked at the Bishop and nodded slowly, “I too was seeking a certain knowledge… It was blasphemous, but I had to be certain—”

     Shadowhyn gasped, “Did you write this?” she demanded as she dug through her shoulder bag.

     The creature stared at the old parchments she produced, “Where did you,” he coughed, “find those?”

     The red-haired woman’s reply made the ghoul shudder. “The School of the Dark Arts,” Shadowhyn said as the ghoul recoiled from the papers she held.

     “Yes! I was that Cleric!” the creature cried.

     “Tell me what happened!” Shadowhyn demanded, “I want—need—to know!”

     The ghoul clasped his head in his rotting hands, “No, I-I cannot!”

     Shadowhyn nodded slowly and put the papers back in her bag, “Tell me,” she said gently, “and I will help end your suffering.”

     Hope flickered in the wretched creature’s eyes, “Dahvin betrayed us…” he choked softly, “We… Dahvin, Ellisen and I… sought to know if the Sacred Art and the Death Arts were similar…” he paused to look at his hands. The flesh had peeled, sloughing off in large patches, exposing sickly muscle and bone, “Dahvin… slew us both. I was… not ‘resurrected’… but ‘reanimated’, and now I _must_ serve him. He learned the Sacred Art from me—”

     “Why?!” Shadowhyn demanded, “Why would he want to know that?”

     “My Master seeks immortality,” the creature said simply, “and he has found it, to a fashion.” He looked at Shinoa and Shadowhyn, “He lives… and when his body begins to decay, he finds another, and transfers his soul into the new body.”

     Shadowhyn tilted her head in though, “That doesn’t explain why—”

     “His transference spell makes use of the Sacred Resurrection, but it is an imperfect use of the Art. As a result,” the ghoul began coughing, “As a result, his bodies have been decaying faster in recent years.” He held up an arm, “Much like myself, he begins to wither.”

     Shinoa held up the bundle of papers they had found in the Library, “Does his transference spell use Constructs like this?” she questioned as she pointed at the bottom half of the page. The ghoul nodded; Shinoa and Shadowhyn stared at each other in shock.

     Shinoa crumpled the papers in her fist as tears started to well in her eyes, “Your Master… tried to take my sister’s body?”

     Shadowhyn stepped behind the young Dark Elf and laid a hand on her shoulder, “Easy now Shin, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

     The creature gazed at the Blade Dancer with a puzzled look on his face, “ _Tried_ to take…? The Master has never failed to take a new shell…” he nervously rubbed the palms of his hands together, “Well, Bishop? I told you what little I know,” the hope in his eyes barely masked the mad despair in his voice, “Release me from this cursed existence!”

     Shadowhyn winced, confusion written on her face, “But… I have more questions about—”

     “NO!” the creature snapped, frothy saliva spraying from its lips, “You promised!” He lunged forward, grabbing the frail woman by the arms, “Y-You _have_ to release me! You don’t know what I’ve done!” Shinoa leveled her swords at the reanimated man’s throat, but lowered them when she saw the Bishop’s glance.

     Shadowhyn cried out as his fingers dug into her arms, “I’ll keep my promise!” the Bishop said as she pushed the ghoul away, “I won’t leave you in such a state.”

     The creature fell to his knees before the red-haired woman, “Hurry! If the Master returns, we are both lost!”

     Shadowhyn nodded at Shinoa, “Watch us, Sister. It will take me a minute to Cleanse him.” The Dark Elf turned and began watching the Library for movement. Shinoa swung her swords from side to side, listening to the cold steel slice through the air. _I promise, Ulana,_ she thought bitterly, _I will avenge you._ “Before I begin,” Shadowhyn said as she rolled up her sleeves, “is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

     “Only that you must kill the Master,” the creature’s smile sent a chill up the woman’s spine, “or face a fate like mine.”

     Shadowhyn frowned, “You said that before... what do you mean?”

     Rage lit the ghoul’s eyes, “There is no time! Do your magic, _fool!_ ”

     The Bishop’s eyes narrowed as she traced a circle of light in the air, “So be it, _creature_.” As she wove a complex Pattern inside the circle with her fingertips, Shadowhyn angrily recited the incantation. Stepping forward, the Bishop forced her fist through the glowing threads of light; as the Pattern twisted itself around her hand, Shadowhyn pushed forward to grab the ghoul’s forehead. “ _Karna wenya_ ,” she snarled, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed. Shinoa turned to look over her shoulder when the ghoul bellowed in pain. The young Dark Elf threw a hand in front of her face as the Pattern twisted about the Bishop's arm flared a brilliant white, briefly blinding the Drow.

     Shadowhyn blinked the white blobs of light and the tears away from her eyes, _What have I done?_ she thought, horror gripping her heart. The ghoulish Cleric lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, blood oozing from the gouges her fingers had left in his forehead. The Bishop jumped slightly when Shinoa’s voice sounded from just over her shoulder, “What happened, Shadowhyn?”

     The red-haired woman frowned, uncertain, “I… I was angry… I think my spell failed.”

     Shinoa gazed levelly at the smaller woman, and sheathed her swords before laying a hand on the Bishop’s shoulder as the frail woman began to shiver, “What happens now?”

     The creature on the ground groaned, and rolled onto his hands and knees. “What… did you do to me?!” he snarled, slavering bloody white foam, “You betrayed me!” Shinoa tensed her body, preparing to defend the smaller woman. Even so, the Dark Elf was astonished at the ghoul’s speed; the creature seemed to blur as he leapt forward onto the Bishop, knocking her back against a bookcase as his hands wrapped tight around her throat. Shinoa dashed to grapple with the ghoul, but he batted her away with ease.

     “I… didn’t,” Shadowhyn gasped, grasping feebly at the fallen Cleric’s wrists, “betray you!” He tightened his grip, and the Bishop gurgled, struggled to breathe. Shinoa jumped onto the ghoul’s back and pulled with all her strength, but the inhuman creature seemed to disregard her presence. She looked at Shadowhyn’s face, and fear chilled her stomach. _She’s turning purple, I must do something!_

     Muttering an oath in her native tongue, Shinoa gripped the creature’s waist with her knees, and wrapped her left arm around its throat. Pulling a blade from her back with her free hand, the young Dark Elf prepared to strike the creature. “Nh!” Shadowhyn wheezed, “don’t… kill hhk—” her voice failed as the ghoul dug his thumbs into her neck. Shinoa nodded, a grim set to her jaw. The Blade Dancer pushed off the creature’s left shoulder, leaping over his head to fall between it and the human, angling her sword as she fell. She struck him across the forearms, her weight and momentum driving the blade, slicing through rotting sinew and flesh.

     The creature bellowed in pain as the Blade Dancer landed, pivoting on her left leg to strike back with her right. The ghoul stumbled away from the Bishop, trailing gore from his severed wrists. Shadowhyn slumped to the floor, retching and gasping for breath as she tore the ghoul’s hands away from her neck. Shinoa stepped between the Bishop and the fallen Cleric, and brandished her sword. “You… you’ve ruined me!” the ghoul screamed, spraying bloody saliva as he spat the words, “I should have kept my tongue…” He slammed his bleeding stumps against his head as his eyes widened in fear, “My Master will torment me beyond words for my actions.” He motioned at Shadowhyn with a useless limb, “You should have just destroyed me!”

     Shadowhyn struggled to sit upright as she wiped traces of blood from her face, “I _tried_ to Cleanse you, but… something interfered with my spell.”

     The ghoul’s maniacal laughter echoed through the Library, “I told you that you belonged to him! I can see now,” the ghoul began making sweeping motions with his arms, and a blood-red Construct appeared at his feet, “ _you_ are the key to his plans! If I destroy _you_ , perhaps he will end my existence in his anger!” Shinoa leapt forward, her blade drawing a silver arc through the air; the ghoul crossed his arms above his head, and the Blade Dancer’s sword ricocheted off a sickly greenish column that sprang up around the ghoul. Shinoa jumped away from the ghoul as the column flickered a brilliant red.

     “A Barrier?!” Shadowhyn gasped as she struggled to her feet, “Stay back Shinoa, I’ll have to—”

     “ _Gorgorath!_ ” the ghoul cried as another Dark Construct flared beneath his feet. Shadowhyn clasped her head and collapsed as an overwhelming wave of fear made her cry out in terror. “Shadow!” Shinoa called, running to her side. Checking to make sure the red-haired woman still breathed, Shinoa pulled her second sword from its sheath and confronted the ghoul. “What now, beast?” she growled. The ghoul’s mocking laughter filled her ears as the light of a Summon-Gate blazed behind the fallen Cleric. “Now,” he spat, “you _die!_ ”

    

***

    

     Lydia stood in the doorway, pretending to be busy sweeping the dust and dirt that customers tracked into the family store. She sighed, and paused as she looked toward the North Gate. A pair of the Kings Guards stood just outside the village walls, an imposing sight in their gleaming white armor. _Where are you, Lysander?_ the thought echoed through her mind for the hundredth time. _You were supposed to be back hours ago!_ Angrily, the trader’s daughter swatted at the pile of dirt she had formed and sighed again when she saw the mess she’d created. _You’re probably out ogling that Dark Elf! Stupid boy!_

     A distant peel of thunder made the girl smirk. _At least you’ll be stuck out in the rain! Serves you right to leave me to do your chores..._ Unconsciously, Lydia stuck her tongue out in the direction of the North Gate, _Stupid Drow… Now my brother will want to leave the Island, and…_ The woman entering the Trading Post stopped and looked quizzically at Lydia before coughing into her gauntleted fist. Lydia’s face turned a bright shade of red as she bowed to the customer, “Forgive me madam; that was not meant for you! I—”

     DragonClaw laughed and waved a hand, “You are forgiven… Lydia, correct?”

     The girl’s eyes brightened, _She knows my name?_ as she nodded excitedly, “Yes, I’m Lydia! What can I help you with?”

     The Paladin bowed, “I am known as DragonClaw. My Guild Sister has mentioned you and your family,” the Guild Leader bowed her head to the Trader Jackson, who had looked up from the knife he was sharpening, “and it seemed from her letters that you are dear to her.” Lydia nodded slowly, _Who is she talking about? I don’t know any Guild members..._ the girl wondered. “Be that as it may,” DragonClaw smiled as she unbuckled the straps that held her shield to her back, “Shadowhyn didn’t come back to the Temple last night as she had planned, and I hoped you knew of her whereabouts.”

     Lydia blushed again as the embarrassment of her injuries the day before came to the forefront of her mind, “Yes, Sister Shadowhyn and… Lady Shinoa rescued us from some Blade Spiders yesterday afternoon. The Sister had to Heal my leg,” the girl said softly, “they say I almost died from the poison…”

     The Paladin, slinging her shield down to hold the straps with her left hand, placed her right hand on Lydia’s shoulder, “Then I am glad Shadaera was there to help you,” DragonClaw paused briefly before continuing, “I hope you helped her, as well.”

     Lydia looked up at the strawberry-blonde woman, confusion evident on her face, “Whatever do you mean?”

     DragonClaw smiled, “I’ll explain once I ask your father to tend to something for me,” the Paladin hefted her shield as she turned to face Trader Jackson.

     He put the knife and whet-stone under the counter before wiping his grease-blackened hands on his apron. Clasping the Paladin’s hand, a smile broke out on Jackson’s face, “It’s good to see you, little one.”

     DragonClaw grinned as she set her shield on the counter, and placed her fists on her hips, “I haven’t been called that in quite some time.”

     Trader Jackson laughed, “Ah, well, you have grown quite a bit since I saw you last,” he rubbed his chin, smudging a spot of grease he had put there some time earlier, “I suppose I’ll have to call you ‘young lady’ from now on.”

     DragonClaw raised an eyebrow, grinned, “I suppose that will do.”

     Jackson laughed again, “Now, what can I help you with today?”

     The Guild Leader pushed her shield closer to the Trader, and pointed to the metal clasps where the leather straps were fastened, “It feels a bit loose here, I’m not sure if it’s the bracket, or if it’s the strap itself tha—” A chill ran down the Paladin’s spine, interrupting her thought.

     “Lysander!” Lydia exclaimed as the boy stumbled into the shop, “Where have you been?!” Trader Jackson looked toward the door, and DragonClaw looked over her shoulder to see the source of the commotion.

     The Trader’s son paused to catch his breath, one hand gripping his stomach. “I’m… sorry,” he gasped, “I… I went to—”

     “So, you _did_ go see her!” Lydia snapped as she twisted the broom in her hands, her knuckles turning white, “I _knew_ it!”

     The boy grinned slightly before shaking his head, “No, no, Sister Shadowhyn asked me to bring them food—”

     DragonClaw turned, “Shadowhyn? Where has she gone, Lysander?”

     He paused and looked at the Paladin, “Uh…” he glanced over at Lydia who nodded, “She went to the Ruin… Something about ‘manuscripts’,” Lysander said.

     “Was Shinoa with her?” the Guild Leader asked. The boy blushed, and scrubbed a hand through his hair; Lydia started berating her brother as DragonClaw turned back to face the Trader, “I’ll take that as a yes,” the Paladin said with a wry chuckle.

     The Trader smiled, “I saw the Blade Dancer with Sister Shadowhyn yesterday afternoon,” he motioned toward the Paladin’s shield, “and yes, I can fix this for you.”

     DragonClaw nodded, “Thank you sir, I’ll be at the Inn.”

     “I’ll have this ready for you by the morning,” Trader Jackson said. DragonClaw stepped toward a display case leaning against the wall, and began to admire the fine short swords and daggers encased within.

     Lysander and Lydia still spoke in hushed, albeit severe, tones. “I _knew_ you snuck out to catch a peek at that Drow!” Lydia had scowled after DragonClaw turned back to speak to the Trader, “I was certain of it as soon as I couldn’t find you to help with the chores!”

     Lysander coughed and rubbed at his chest, “Sorry Lyd, she’s… I dunno, I can’t explain it.”

     Lydia crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the shop’s wooden floor, “Well, can you explain what kept you so long? You were gone _all morning_.”

     “I… We ate breakfast, and Shinoa told the most _amazing_ stories! All about their adventures, an—”

     Lydia held up a hand, “I don’t want to hear her stories, Lys.”

     He faltered, and rubbed his hand through his hair apologetically, “Yeah, sorry Lyd. Uhm, well, after breakfast I walked them to the Ruin entrance, and… and then…” Lysander’s tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth as his throat went dry.

     “Lys? Are you ok?” Lydia’s voice was laced with concern, “You look awfully pale…”

     DragonClaw felt that icy chill run down her spine again and she tensed. _Why am I..._ she looked around carefully, scanning the interior of the Weapons Shop. “…look awfully pale…” Lydia said.

     Abruptly, Lysander turned and stepped to the counter. “Father,” he said, a frightened expression on his face, “Are there any… do we have any rare jewelry for sale? Or on display?”

     Trader Jackson looked down at his son, and slowly scratched his head, “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that in stock.” The older man motioned in the general direction of the Village Square, “A traveler might have something like that in the market, but I only stock the basics here.”

     The color in Lysander’s face seemed to fade, and he shivered as he clutched his cloak around his shoulders, “I’ll never find that amulet,” he muttered softly; DragonClaw raised an eyebrow, _Amulet? Wait, I remember that feeling now!_

     “Lys, is that blood on your cloak?” Lydia asked as she reached for her brother’s back.

     “No! Leave me alone!” Lysander snapped abruptly.

     Quick footsteps on the Weapon Shop’s wooden floor sounded behind her, and DragonClaw turned to see the Trader’s son run from the store, his cloak flapping in the wind behind him. Her eyes narrowed, _Was there a hole in his shirt?_ She looked over at Lydia, who was staring out the door after her brother, her hand at her mouth, and tears of worry in her eyes. The Paladin asked gently, “He’s not acting normal, is he?”

     Lydia shook her head before slowly returning to her sweeping.

    

*****


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

     Sweat beaded on Shinoa’s forehead as heat poured from the Summon-Gate. Flames crackled and leapt out of the shimmering blue hole, and a thick, black smoke pooled at the ceiling. The fallen Cleric’s rasping voice was barely audible above the howling winds that swirled around the Gate. _What’s going on?_ the young Dark Elf’s eyes were wide as she watched in all directions, her ears straining against the noise in the Library, _What did he do to Shadowhyn?_ She glanced down at the Bishop; the smaller woman had managed to sit upright, but was still hunched forward on her knees, her hands covering her ears. Shadowhyn rocked back and forth, mumbling to herself, her entire body shivering in fear. _I must get us out of here!_

     The ghoulish creature called above the shrieking winds, his still-bleeding arms raised above his head, “ _Rise Nerkas!_ ” his mad cackling filled the Blade Dancer’s ears, “I command it!” A fierce gust of wind from the Summon-Gate knocked over some of the free-standing bookcases, the ancient texts falling from the shelves and scattering into dust when they hit the floor. Shinoa gasped at the heat; she watched fearfully as some tapestries began to smoke as the brittle fabric caught flame. The howling wind pushed the young Dark Elf back a step, her heavy boots digging into the faded stone.

     Shadowhyn moaned, and Shinoa looked down as the wind knocked the dizzy woman onto her side. Sheathing a sword, Shinoa knelt next to the Bishop, bracing the smaller woman with her free arm. The red-haired woman’s face was panicked, “Wha- what- Shinoa, what’s going on?”

     The Blade Dancer placed a reassuring hand on the frightened woman’s shoulder, “It’s alright Shadow, there’s just a… _slight_ problem that I have to take care of before we can leave.”

     The Dark Elf went to stand, but the Bishop’s sudden grip on her arm had surprising strength, “Shinoa… I-I’m scared…” the Drow looked down at the woman in surprise, “Th-These voices…” she clasped her hands to her ears as tears ran down her face, “They’re telling me to hurt you… I… I don’t _want_ to!”

     Shinoa smiled as she brushed Shadowhyn’s hair back from her face, and gently kissed the frightened woman on the forehead, “Be at ease, Sister.”

     The sound of cracking granite made the Bishop and the Blade Dancer turn. A glistening red hand emerged from the Summon-Gate, its hooked claws digging into the stone floor as it pulled some un-seen being upward. Steam and smoke rose from the grimy red flesh, and the stone floor buckled and twisted beneath its touch. Another wickedly clawed hand rose from the depths, and parts of the floor fell into the Summon-Gate as the Demon rose from the pit. Shinoa gasped when she saw the Demon’s size, _He’s at least six paces high!_ The beast roared and spread its massive wings as it brandished its claws, smoke and fire billowing from its fanged maw, its barbed tail flicking in the air behind it. The sound of its roar sent a chill down Shinoa’s spine, and Shadowhyn began to weep.

     Nerkas slowly looked about the room, and stepped toward the fallen Cleric, “ _Who dares…_ ” the Demon growled, the beast’s voice reverberated around the room as the blazing heat from his mouth ignited the nearby bookshelves, “ _disturb me?_ ”

     The ghoulish creature turned to face the Demon and grinned, “I command you to attack them!” he wailed piteously as he gestured toward Shinoa and Shadowhyn, his useless arms flailing.

     “ _You,_ ” Nerkas snarled, “ _are not my Master._ ”

     The ghoul faltered before speaking, “I… I am the Master’s right hand! My command is as His!”

     The Demon bared his teeth, “ _I think not!_ ” Nerkas swept his claws at the fallen Cleric, and the ghoul screamed in fright before the Demon’s hands bounced off the ghoul’s Barrier. The sickly-green column of light flared as the Demon gripped it with both hands.

     The Cleric began laughing, “You can’t touch me, beast!”

     Nerkas grinned, and Shinoa shuddered at the sight. The Demon tore the Barrier in half, and the fallen Cleric shrieked as the Demon’s tail pierced his torso. Nerkas lifted the twitching ghoul to his face, “ _And now…_ ” the Demon snarled, “ _you will feed my underlings._ ” The Cleric cried out in fear as Nerkas turned toward the Summon-Gate, and the Demon’s tail hurled the creature through the blazing blue hole. The Gate snapped shut behind the ghoul, cutting off his tortured screams.

     Shinoa tensed as the Vanul turned to look in her direction, “What now, Demon?” she called.

     Nerkas stretched, his massive, leathery wings scraped the ceiling. He bared his fangs in a smile, and the Blade Dancer heard Shadowhyn whimper. “ _I have been Summoned… and I am hungry,_ ” the Demon’s voice was a low rumble, “ _My Master requires that one, so I shall abate my hunger…_ ” his face contorted into a grin, and Shinoa’s blood ran cold, “ _with you._ ” The Demon roared again, and the sound of footsteps filtered through the Library. A flood of Skeletons swarmed into the room from every entrance, creating an impassive, bleached-white wall around the two women and the Demon.

     The Blade Dancer stood, and patted Shadowhyn’s grasping hands away, “It’s alright,” Shinoa whispered to the frightened woman. She looked up at the Demon and unsheathed her other sword; turning side-on to the Demon, Shinoa gently flexed her legs as she prepared for battle. Holding the sword in her left hand with the blade upward and toward the Demon, Shinoa held her right arm back, the sword in that hand with its pommel out, the blade flat against her arm. “I hope you don’t mind if I dance with you,” Shinoa said as a feral grin spread across her face.

     

***

     

     A fresh summer breeze ruffled the Paladin’s hair as she stepped out of the dimly lit Weapons Shop. DragonClaw lifted a gauntleted hand to her eyes to block the bright afternoon sunlight as she glanced around for her quarry. A flicker of brown, the wind-blown tail of the boy’s cloak, caught her eye as it disappeared around the row of houses to the north. _There he is_ , the Guild Leader thought as she started after Lysander, _I wonder what happened to him..._ Rounding the street corner, the Paladin looked out the Village’s North Gate, casting her gaze down the long hard-packed dirt road leading away from the settlement. Harmless keltirs and elpies wandered the rolling green fields, and a glimmer of silver from the armor of a King’s Guard was all that the Paladin could see from where she stood. _He didn’t leave town…_

     DragonClaw turned to look down the long Village Market Street; various travelers had set up booths or spread cloaks across the ground on which to display their findings. The Paladin strode down the crowded street, squinting when sunlight managed to shine between her fingers and momentarily blind her. Stepping around a group of youngling Mystics gathered around a dwarf peddling willow staves, DragonClaw caught sight of Lysander as he walked around the fountain in the Village Square. His cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders, Lysander walked with his head down, moving quickly through the groups of passers-by. _Is he headed out the south gate?_ The Paladin wondered as his quick pace brought him close to the Village wall. As he reached the end of the street, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, and ducked into the alley that ran between the Village wall and the wooden houses. DragonClaw ran the rest of street length, dodging the shopping villagers. As she rounded the corner into the alley, she paused to catch her breath.

     Stepping out of the alley, the Paladin found herself in the shadow of the Temple of Einhasad, close to the Gatekeeper’s well. She ran to the Temple’s side entrance and glanced inside, but couldn’t see Lysander in the dim interior. Swiftly moving along the Temple’s thick, stone wall, DragonClaw made her way to the Temple’s main entrance. Standing in the antechamber, the Guild Leader scanned the row of pews and chairs, eyeing the Priests and commoners walking about the Temple nave. She sighed, and clapped her hands to brush the dust from her gloves, preparing to enter the Temple. An icy chill ran down her spine again, and the Paladin turned to look out the Village’s Western Gate. A black flicker on the hilltop visible over the Village wall drew the Paladin’s eye, and as she stared at the now-empty hilltop, the icy chill down her spine slowly disappeared. DragonClaw frowned as she turned back to the Temple.

     A greenish-skinned hand placed on her shoulder made her turn in surprise; her fist dipped to grasp the axe at her belt. The robed Warcryer raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, “I did not mean to startle you, Dragon.”

     The Paladin laughed as she took her hand from her axe and clapped the Orc on the shoulder, “It’s good to see you Phoebus,” she looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of his companions, “and greetings to you, Mauldis, Slifer.”

     The heavily muscled Tyrant nodded his greeting as the red-robed Sorcerer lifted his shield above his head to block the steady sunlight, “It’s been years since I’ve come back here,” Slifer said quietly.

     The Paladin smiled, “The same goes for me... Believe me,” she chuckled, “not much has changed since we left.” DragonClaw leaned to peer around the Temple’s corner; a blazing white light shone from where the Gatekeeper stood. “Were your travels eventful?” DragonClaw asked. Slifer coughed into his fist as Phoebus rubbed a palm on his forehead.

     Mauldis laughed, “Our travels… yes, _eventful_.” The impressively tall Orc’s booming laughter made the Warcryer shake his head in exasperation.

     The Paladin laughed as she beckoned her Guild Members to follow, “Come, I’ll buy drinks at the tavern… There’s much to tell you.”

     Lysander crouched behind the Temple’s buttress and watched the four adventurers walk away. When they were lost in the crowd of villagers, he turned to lean his back against the thrust of masonry and rubbed his face with his hands. He shivered as the black shape flickered into sight on the hilltop. “I know, I know!” he whispered to himself, struggling to his feet, “It might be in her room…” Glancing about, the troubled boy darted into the Temple as the black shape flickered again, leaving the hilltop empty once more.

     Pulling his hood over his head to hide his face, Lysander stepped quickly into the Temple’s ante-chamber and slipped into the narrow aisle running along the left side of the back wall. Glancing around, the boy snatched a handful of books from one of the tables lining the back wall, and headed for the side aisle. He paused to take a breath, and looked about once again. Several villagers knelt at the front altar, burning incense as they prayed to Einhasad; a trio of youngling mystics had gathered around one of the Priests as he discussed something out of a spellbook. Lysander caught a glimpse of one of the younger clergymen tending to the potted plants. Hesitantly, the boy walked to the Priest and cleared his throat.

     “Oh?” the Priest turned to see Lysander and smiled, “How may I help you?”

     Lysander bowed his head before motioning toward the books he held, “I have a delivery for Sister Shadowhyn… is she here?”

     The clergyman frowned as he scratched his head, “I’m not sure if she’s here, but her quarters are on the upper floor,” he motioned toward the back corner of the Temple, “Follow those stairs, I believe her room is the last door of the hallway.” Lysander nodded and mumbled his thanks before he began treading softly toward the stairs. He shivered when he walked past the altar, and he wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead.

     A powerful sense of dread filled his heart as he slowly mounted the stairs. _Why am I doing this? I don’t want to do this!_ He willed his body to turn around, to run back out the Temple entrance, but his feet moved steadily up the staircase of their own volition. As he reached the first landing, he casually tossed his hood back from his face, and wiped again at his forehead. Rounding the narrow staircase’s corner, he took the steps two at a time, his soft soled boots barely making a sound on the stone. As his foot touched the first stones of the upper floor, a faint tingle in his leg made him look down in confusion. _I must be imagining things_ , he thought as he shook the feeling away.

     Striding down the corridor, Lysander’s growing sense of unease kept him glancing over his shoulder. He stopped in front of the door at the terminus of the hallway, and stamped his feet to make the tingling sensation go away. He shook his head; a faint buzzing noise was making him feel irritable. Coughing softly into his fist, Lysander looked down the empty hallway and listened for any audible signs of nearby people. The faint buzzing noise was deafening in the stone corridor’s silence. The trader’s son grimaced as he turned back to the door, and gently placed his hand against the wood to get a sense of the obstacle set before him.

     

***

     

     Mauldis grinned as he recounted the story, “…That’s when Phoebus ran over to help the little girl.”

     Slifer laughed after taking a sip of his brown ale, hurriedly interrupting the Tyrant, “And she started to _cry_ when she saw his fa—” The Sorcerer stopped in mid-sentence as a change in the air tugged at his senses. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he set his ale down on the table as he concentrated; a small globe formed from a trio of intersecting Constructs appeared between his fingertips. After glancing at the symbols dancing within the sphere, the Sorcerer looked up at his companions as the globe winked out of existence.

     “Someone’s using magic within the Village,” he stated softly, as a worried look settled on his face, “…and it’s quite powerful.”

     DragonClaw struck the table with a clenched fist, rattling the mugs littering the wooden surface in front of the two Orcs, “That’s Holy magic,” the Paladin grunted as she pushed away from the table, running out into the street, her eyes looking for visible Threads. A shadow loomed over the Guild Leader as the massive Tyrant stepped out of the tavern to stand at her back; the smaller Warcryer and Sorcerer flanked her as they examined the village around them.

     “It’s strong enough that the young ones feel it,” Mauldis said softly, motioning to a group of white-robed Mystics staring around with blank, worried expressions.

     “Can you tell what it is, Dragon?” Phoebus questioned as he stared down a passing merchant.

     The Paladin frowned, “I’d be willing to bet it’s one of Shadowhyn’s Wards,” she said as she pointed toward the Temple; a brilliant yellow-white glow filtered out of several windows on the upper floor.

     

***

     

     Shadowhyn stared over her shoulder in the direction of her now-active Constructs, the far distant shapes blazing a bright yellow in her mind’s eye. She raised a trembling hand to her lips as her thoughts froze in terror, _No! Not yet… I-I’m not ready yet…_ A chill ran down her spine as a realization floated to the forefront of her mind, “He’s come for me…” she whispered.

     

***

     

     Lysander cried out in pain as the stone walls and floor ignited, the brilliant white-hot flames of overlapping Constructs dancing around his body. The young man screamed as his exposed flesh boiled and his ragged, torn cloak burst into flame. _WHY?!_ Lysander tried to run, to escape the searing heat, but his hand was held fast to the Bishop’s wooden door. He squinted against the fierce light, trying to see what had trapped him. His mouth fell open in shock; a Pattern two paces high had transfixed his right wrist, anchoring him to the Ward-laced wall. Grasping at the Pattern only burned his other hand, and panic gripped the boys’ stomach. Pulling his at his arm with all his strength, Lysander felt the Ward start to give. He clenched his teeth and groaned as the Construct resisted, threatening to pull his limb apart. With one last bone-wrenching tug, the boy pulled free of the Ward and darted down the stone corridor, cradling his twisted arm to his chest. Wards lining the corridor flared into life as he approached, each Construct lashing out with burning Threads.

     Half tumbling down the rough stone staircase, Lysander batted at his scorched and smoking clothes. Stumbling out into the Temple’s main chamber, the boy crashed into a table, scattering the books and candles across the floor. Confused, the villagers standing about the Temple nave started calling out questions or ran for the exit. At Lysander’s approach, the crowd gave way, and the boy finally loosed the leather ties of his cloak as he cleared the Temple’s arched doorway.

     

***

     

     DragonClaw stopped dead at the sight, barely noticing the Sorcerer’s weight when he walked into her back. A horribly burned man stumbled from the Temple amid a crowd of anxious villagers, and as the Paladin watched, the man tore his burning cloak from his neck and threw it on the ground, stamping at the flames that blackened the brown fabric. He looked up at the Guild Leader and stared; his face was burnt and raw, the once curly brown hair on his head was in blackened patches, or missing altogether. “Lysander?” DragonClaw gasped as she took a step forward, “Are you alright? Wh—” With a sob, the injured teen ran for the West Gate, disappearing into the crowd.

     Slifer stepped around the Paladin, rubbing his forehead as the Warcryer and the Tyrant approached the humans, “Ah… Why’d you stop like that?”

     Phoebus motioned toward the West Gate, “And what happened to that man?”

     DragonClaw shook her head, “I don’t know… But we’d better find out.”

     

***

     

     Shinoa smiled to herself, _This may be interesting!_ She licked her lips in anticipation, waiting for her blood to start pounding through her veins, for the chaos to begin. Only in the chaos could she achieve _valasse_ , the highest serenity of movement.

     “Shinoa, please be careful,” came the tight voice of the Bishop behind her, who had pulled herself back into a corner of the room. The woman’s face looked somewhat frightful, with the library dust covering her face, her emerald green eyes shone with new gathering tears, “ _Shinoa!_ ”

     Shinoa looked over her shoulder at the older woman, her wolfish eyes sending a slight shiver down Shadowhyn’s back, “You should be telling him that.” Turning to face the impending rush of skeletons, Shinoa slowly started spinning one blade in her right hand, her wrist pivoting slowly to the thrum of the blade as it howled through the air. “Shilen will be greatly pleased today, as I send your corpses to her for her blood feast!” she said as the skeletons rushed upon her.

     Her blood surged through her body as Shinoa vaulted up and over the first onrush of skeletons, putting herself in the middle of them. The dust billowed up as she landed, her feet spread out underneath her as she crouched momentarily, her blades evenly spaced, her eyes slowly shutting. With a wheezing cough the first skeleton swung awkwardly at the young Dark Elf, trying to see if she would react. Without a sound the woman’s blade in her right hand came up and twisted, separating the skeleton’s shoulder. Shinoa smiled to herself, as she began to spin, her blades dancing in her hands, around her, slicing and parting anything in their path. _This is how it should be, this is what I trained for_ , she said to herself, and she spun around another onslaught of skeletons. Her feet started to move in a pattern, her body swaying in an intricate dance, and the Bishop could see an aura starting to surround the young Dark Elf. The air ignited around the Drow, flames billowing as she danced to the unending flow of Undead around her.

     The Dance of Fire had begun. Shinoa’s pulse hammered through her body, her heart beating a rapid tempo in time with the rhythm of battle. She spun once, and again, her blades flicking through the air around her, a blur of razor-sharp metal that swept aside any of the skeletons that attempted to reach her. She leapt lightly over a fallen foe, her heavy boots throwing sparks as she landed, the hardened plates gouging the worn stone of the Library floor. She lazily opened her eyes, and glanced down at her handiwork. _Almost ready…_ she grinned and sprinted forward to meet the next wave of Undead. As she danced, she continued to carve her Pattern into the stone.

     The Demon hissed, “ _Back you fools!_ ” as he strode forward, trampling the milling throng of Skeletons that had responded to his summons, brushing them aside with tail and wings, “ _I think not, Drow!_ ” He groped forward, his clawed hands grasping for the young Dark Elf. The Blade Dancer easily avoided his outstretched arms, ducking swiftly under his reach as she drew her blades along the undersides of his arms. Shinoa laughed as the Demon howled in pain, reeling backward to clasp his wounds. The Skeletons pressed forward, running around and between Nerkas’ legs, swarming toward the Blade Dancer.

     Her laugh echoed through the Library as she leapt, springing into the air above the perfect Pattern she had etched into the stone floor. “Cover your face, Shadow!” she cried as she twisted her body, arms outstretched, legs pointing toward the sky.

     As she recited the harsh, guttural syllables of the spell, Shinoa could feel, more so than see, the Pattern begin to react to her incantation. A sickly green glow began to ripple through the marks she had gouged in the floor. Bringing her blades alongside her body, the Blade Dancer dropped toward the mass of Skeletons that crowded into the Pattern. Nerkas continued to rail at his minions, violently tossing them aside as he struggled to strike at the Dark Elf. She twisted at the last moment, dodging a swing of the Demon’s tail that whistled past at bone-shattering speed, bringing her heavy boots to bear on a Skeleton in the center of the Pattern, crushing it to the floor as she landed amidst the crowd. A putrid wave of sludge erupted from the stone when her feet touched the Pattern, driven by an explosive blast of wind, quickly coating all the nearby Skeletons, spraying into the air to drench the bookshelves and tapestries. The Demon brought his wings around to cover his body, just avoiding a faceful of the poisonous slime.

     His hateful, booming laughter was slightly muffled by his membraenous wings, “ _If you think a little poison will hurt me, you are mistaken!_ ”

     “It wasn’t meant to hurt you, Demon,” the Blade Dancer’s soft reply made the great beast pause, and unfurl his wings. The Dark Elf stood in the middle of the Pattern she had etched in the floor, the Skeletons around her staggered and distracted by the poisonous semi-liquid that had coated their re-animated bodies, as well as the floor and remaining furniture. Many of the Undead had fallen to their knees as the poison began to eat away at their bones. Shinoa threw her arms above her head as she began to dance again, twisting her body back and forth as she concentrated. “Of course,” she laughed lightly, “a little Fire could make things interesting…”

     The Drow spun the blades in her hands above her head in a flourish as she vaulted back from the slime drenched Undead still pushing at her. Their guttural moans thundered in Shinoa’s ears as she danced lightly around their flailing arms, humming a chant to herself. She could feel the air growing warmer around her as she ducked underneath an Undead arm swinging at where her face was before. Plunging her swords deep into the creature’s body, she twisted around bringing herself full circle around the creature. Using the momentum, she brought her swords again down on another, and another as the unyielding flow of Undead pushed toward her.

     _Shinoa! Be careful!_ Shadowhyn opened her mouth to scream to the other woman, but could not utter a sound. She pushed herself back from the green sludge that oozed on the floor nearby. It smelled sickly sweet, making her stomach squirm. She looked up as sparks flew from the Dark Elf’s swords as they scraped against the stone floor as she spun. “ _I knew she was a Blade Dancer, but to see her move? She is amazing!”_ the red-haired woman whispered to herself as she watched Shinoa weave her deadly dance among the Undead. The Bishop could feel the magic pulsing from the other woman, thrumming in time with her twists and turns. _Is this some other type of magic that I haven’t seen before? I don’t recognize this!_ she said to herself, tying to pick out familiar patterns in the pulsing magic washing over her.

     Shinoa breathed smoothly to herself as her hands grew warmer. _It is almost complete_ , she thought to herself as her blades once again clashed with the ground, sending up another shower of sparks. She could hear the Demon howling in pain at the poison seeping into its wings. _Time to finish this!_

     Shadowhyn watched in amazement while the sparks that erupted from the floor around Shinoa seemed to wreathe themselves around the dancer’s body, following her every move as she danced lightly among the Undead. Her vision shimmered as the sparks began to pulse each time Shinoa struck a foe. She could feel her hair move from a ripple of hot air, the temperature in the room soaring. _Why is it getting so—_

     “Shadowhyn, cover your eyes! _NOW!_ ” Shinoa brought her swords down upon the ground throwing up another torrent of sparks. Seemingly of a life of their own the sparks flung themselves upon the Undead, still covered in the sludge that had been strewn upon them before. With a deafening _crack_ , the room erupted in light and flame. Shinoa threw herself back as the fire blazed along the sludge that covered the room, flames leaping to the Demon as well.

     Stumbling, half-blind in the intense heat and light, Shadowhyn fell backward, covering her face with her arms. _I need to get out of this!_ She felt strong arms tugging her backward. Shinoa had managed to reach the red-haired woman, pulling her away from the flames as they grew higher.

     The Demon’s laughter thundered above the flames, its body still burning. “ _You think a little fire show like this will stop me?!_ ” he raged as he threw his minions out of the way, working his way towards the two women. Roaring in pain, he flicked his tail, slamming the Bishop head over heels across the room, his hands reaching for Shinoa.

     “ _Shadow!_ ” the Drow screamed as the Vanul’s vice-like grip closed around her. Shadowhyn disappeared as the flames climbed higher on the far side of the room.

     “ _How will you save your friend now, little elfling?”_ the Demon snarled.

     A noise woke her, though she wasn’t fully aware yet. No… it wasn’t a noise… it was... a voice. A call for… help? of pain? She couldn’t quite tell; there was too much to figure out first. Where was she? Why was she so numb? With an effort, she opened her eyes and immediately squeezed them shut. It was much too bright to see, and her eyelids barely blocked the raging reds and yellows that filled the room, blinding her. She shifted her legs, ever so slightly, noting the fact that she could move them at all. Moving her legs made her groan, as they seemed to be made entirely of bruised muscle & granite; the voice called again, more insistent this time. She pushed against the floor—was it stone?—and twisted, trying to sit up. If moving her legs had hurt, sitting up was pure agony. Her left arm was damp, and the skin under her torn tunic was slick; the familiar, stomach-curling copper scent filled her nostrils as she struggled to take a breath. _Why… is it so… hot?_ she rubbed at her eyes with a gloved hand, trying to open them, to see.

     The voice spoke again, louder now, “ ** _Shadaera._** ” That… that voice. It tugged at her memory, weakly, but for some reason she pushed those thoughts away. “ ** _Shinoa needs you, Shadaera._** ” _Shinoa… needs? Shinoa!_ The Bishop opened her eyes, focusing on her surroundings as the fierce glare made her squint. The Blade Dancer’s flames burned bright and hot, a shimmering haze seemed to make the room dance at the edge of her vision even as the smoke obscured the far side of the room. She had woken up… why had she woken up? Even as she wondered, a dim memory of the raging Demon surfaced, of the swift-moving tail catching her across the stomach, flinging her away from the young Dark Elf.

     Glancing around, Shadowhyn realized that the Demon’s attack had thrown her across the room, where she had tumbled, coming to a halt against a stone column supporting the Library balcony. Grasping at the rough-hewn stone for support, the Bishop pulled herself to her feet. The pain that wracked her limbs made her head swim for a moment, but miraculously no bones had been broken. Swaying slightly as she stood, resting her weight against the column, the red-haired woman looked for Shinoa. She shaded her eyes against the light from a swollen mass of flame that had swallowed most of the bookshelves in the center of the room, and gasped when the smoke cleared for a second.

     Flames wreathed the Demon’s legs and wings as Nerkas held the young Blade Dancer at arm’s length, his enormous clawed hand pinning her arms to her sides. Shadowhyn could see the muscles in his arms trembling as he squeezed; Shinoa was pale, much paler than normal, but she was still alive. Hope welled up in the Bishop’s heart as she watched the Drow grit her teeth and kick at the Demon. He laughed at her efforts, and cruelly shook the young Dark Elf. “Stop, Demon!” Shadowhyn cried out in horror.

     He turned to look in her direction, and bared his massive collection of teeth in what passed for a smile, “ _And why should I, Bishop?”_

     Shadowhyn took a step forward, nearly stumbling, before she braced her hands on her knees, “Because!” she panted, gasping with the fresh pain of moving, “Let her go, and… I’ll go with you.”

     The Demon’s harsh laughter boomed, making the red-haired woman twitch, “ _You are coming with me regardless… and I am hungry.”_ He cast a side-long glance at the Blade Dancer, who still struggled weakly in his grip, “ _I do so enjoy a fresh meal…”_ Shadowhyn took another step forward, toward the Demon, and he frowned, “ _But I cannot have you interrupting me—”_ He raised his other hand, and pointed at the Bishop, “ _Take her!”_

     From the depths of the fire, from the safety of the corridors leading away from the ruined Library, a dozen or more Skeletons gingerly picked their way through the flames to surround Shadowhyn. She froze as terrible memories flooded her mind, turning her legs to stone as she began to shiver with fear. “ ** _Shadaera._** _”_ That voice spoke softly into the Bishop’s ear, and her body calmed. “ ** _You cannot let your fear overwhelm you._** _”_

     That voice! “ _Ulana!_ ” Shadowhyn whispered as a gentle reassurance settled in her mind.

     Shinoa paused in her struggle for a moment, “Wha? What did—” A slight glow shimmered in the hazy, heat soaked air around the Bishop for a moment as she concentrated, setting a Construct in motion.

     “Unhand the Blade Dancer, Demon!” Shadowhyn called, her voice a command that tugged at the Demon, beat against his mind, her words echoing through the Library, “I will not let you harm the girl.”

     Nerkas turned, lowering his arm for a moment, a blank look on his face, before shaking his head and snarling in anger, “ _You do not command me, Bishop!”_ He turned his gaze to the Blade Dancer, “ _She dies now._ ” He opened his mouth, raised his hand.

     _“_ No,” Shadowhyn said quietly, “I will not allow it.” She reached out, motioning just beyond the Demon. Her staff, lying forgotten at the Demon’s feet where she had been sitting minutes earlier, blurred as it made its way into her grasp, twisting the Demon’s legs around, and shattering its way through a Skeleton. A fierce golden light surrounded her body as she held the staff upright, another Construct appearing at her feet. She turned to look at the nearest reanimated corpse, “Begone!” The Skeleton disappeared in a cloud of dust as its body disintegrated. The remaining Skeletons gazed at her briefly, their empty, gaping eye-sockets staring, before they turned and fled into the flames.

     Nerkas growled a curse as he pulled himself to his feet. Watching as his Undead minions ran from the Bishop, he cast one more glance at the Blade Dancer in his grasp before he tossed her to the hard stone floor, forgotten for the moment. “ _You will regret this, Bishop.”_ He bared his teeth as he took a step forward, his segmented tail flicking in the air behind his unfurled wings, “ _All my Master commanded was that you were… alive. As long as you survive, my Master will forgive my earlier mistakes.”_ He turned, spinning, giving his tail momentum as it blurred through the air toward the diminutive red-haired woman. She stood still, chanting a spell, and Nerkas’ tail struck the bright yellow Barrier that flared into view around her. Shinoa, coughing as she regained her breath, crawled away from the Demon.

     “Your earlier mistakes?” Shadowhyn said, amusement lacing her voice, “Don’t tell me that you have fallen from your master’s favor… I’d so hate to jeopardize your position!” She laughed lightly as she scratched lines and symbols into the floor with the tip of her staff, beginning another incantation while half listening to the Demon’s sudden laughter.

     “ _Oh, yes… I failed my Master… fifteen years ago, He summoned me to ‘convince’ another Bishop to aid Him, only she resisted as well.”_ The smile froze on the Bishop’s face, and her fingers clenched around her staff as her sharp intake of breath hissed through her teeth. “ _I tried destroying her house, torturing her mate… but none of my attempts to ‘persuade’ her were successful.”_ Tears began to flow from Shadowhyn’s eyes as she sobbed, as she tried to hold back her tears. “ _I admit, I didn’t expect to see her react quite the way that she did when I killed her husband… but my Master said that you would not suffer the same… madness.”_

     _He killed them!_ The thought echoed through her mind, tumbling over and over, drowning out the cries of warning from the other voice. _He killed them!_ “You… you… _You_ killed my _parents?!_ ” the scream tore itself from her throat, and the Demon’s delighted laughter answered any questions that might have remained. **_~~He~~ ~~killed~~ ~~them~~_.** A rage more powerful, more consuming than any she had felt swelled in her chest, pounding along with her heartbeat, growing stronger with every throbbing pulse. She leaned her head forward to rest on her trembling hands—still grasping her staff as if to crush it—and howled, squeezing her eyes shut to hold back the tears, screaming until she was out of breath. **_~~Kill~~ ~~him~~. _** She gasped for breath, trembling, wondering briefly if that thought was her own, and decided it didn’t matter. There was only one thing left for her to do.

     The Library had grown deathly quiet, as the Bishop stood amid the slow-burning bookshelves, motionless save for the shivering visible in her hunched shoulders and the steady stream of tears that smeared the dust on her face. The Demon laughed again, the great booming peals echoing around the dimly lit stone room. Shinoa glanced toward Nerkas at the sudden sound, expecting a trick or an attack of some kind. Her heart ached for the battered human, who hadn’t moved since her outburst. _To hear of your parent’s deaths spoken of in such a manner…_ A memory of Mayuri, shock visible in her eyes as the first volley of arrows struck, surfaced for a moment before the young Dark Elf forced the image away. She had seen her mother die with honor… the Bishop had not been so lucky. Shinoa silently rolled to her side, putting a half-collapsed stone support column between herself and Nerkas, pulling her arms and legs beneath her body, gauging her strength. _If Shadowhyn hadn’t saved me from the Demon…_ the Blade Dancer pushed that thought aside as well, _Now if only I can return the favor._

     Shadowhyn strained to hold herself steady, concentrating on calming her emotions. She took a deep, ragged breath; the tears and the sobs stopped as her stomach turned to ice, as a quiet rage burned in her veins. She opened her eyes to gaze at the Demon. Releasing her staff, Shadowhyn began moving her arms in swift, measured motions, tracing Pattern after Pattern in the air before her as she harshly recited the accompanying spells. The air around the Bishop grew thick as she focused, as her incantations took effect. Shinoa watched as the Demon took a step forward, lashing out against the Barrier surrounding the red-haired woman, _He strikes at the spirit first, then at the body. But what can I—_ A low whistling in the air caught her attention, and her long loose strands of white hair began to float in the steadily growing breeze. A flash of white surrounded the Bishop, briefly taking the form of plate armor before it dissolved into ethereal smoke, followed quickly by a burst of yellow sparks that outlined a warrior wielding a war-hammer. The sparks were swept aside by a swirling vortex of wind that circled about the human before fading from sight.

     Nerkas laughed as he watched a cloud of blue flame wreathe the Bishop’s head, “ _You think you can defeat me? Warriors far stronger than you have been little more than annoyances!”_ His tail lashed out again, striking the Barrier repeatedly, the Library echoing with the sounds of his failed attacks. Shadowhyn groaned under the strain, grimacing as she chanted more spells. A fierce glow settled around the Bishop’s staff, flickering gently as it seemed to consume the petrified wood, casting harsh shadows from the red-haired woman’s legs and the remains of the nearby bookshelves. The Demon slowed his assault to eye the harsh glow apprehensively, “ _Your... tricks will not work against me!”_ Shadowhyn reached out to grasp her staff as Nerkas stepped forward to grapple with her Barrier, trying to tear through her defense; the Holy fire flowed along the staff, away from her hands, and as she held it stretched out before her, as if it were a sword, the fire seemed to swell along the length of aged wood, swiftly forming the shape of a great serrated blade.

     _I don’t feel anything,_ Shadowhyn stared briefly at the seething white sword she held before her, _Why don’t I feel anything?_ **_~~He~~ ~~killed~~ ~~them~~._** Her Barrier darkened with every swing of Nerkas’ tail, changed from a brilliant white to a golden yellow, then abruptly deepened to a dark crimson. _It doesn’t matter anymore!_ She laughed, a sickly sound that rang dull in her ears, her lips twisted in a joyless smile, “I always wondered what I would feel when I found the one responsible…” She threw her arms wide as a blazing red Construct appeared at her feet. It pulsed in time with her heartbeat, throbbing brighter and darker in rhythm with her own raging blood. That faint, familiar voice echoed in her mind, only to be drowned out by one more powerful; **_~~Kill~~ ~~him~~!_** “And I find that there is nothing left to feel.”

     The Construct flashed a bright red, the spell complete; the space behind the Bishop blossomed with fire as ghostly skeletal wings grew from the red-haired woman’s shoulders, talons shimmering over her arms, and a fiery feathered head erupted from the woman’s chest while a hell-falcon’s shriek echoed through the Library. New strength flowed into Shadowhyn’s arms and legs, and a fresh wave of blinding rage washed over her senses, masking her pain and uncertainty as she loosed a furious battle-cry, springing forward to meet the Demon.

     _Berserker Spirit?!_ Shinoa gasped in horror, _What is she thinking?_ The Blade Dancer quickly took stock; her swords were lying nearby, in need of a good sharpening, but adequate. Her armor had fared worse in the fight with the Demon. Nerkas’ claws had destroyed several parts of her breastplate, and his grip had twisted some of the joints into uselessness.

     “ ** _Shinoa, you must be ready._** _”_

     The young Dark Elf glanced about, her head still but her eyes swiftly moving, looking for the source of the voice. “ _Ulana?_ ” she whispered harshly, “My sister is dead, I will not fall for your tricks!”

     “ ** _You must help Shadaera; strike swiftly when you see the moment._** _”_

     "What do you mean? _What is going on!_ ” Shinoa listened anxiously, but after a moment it was clear that no answer would be given. Her fingers moving quickly, the Blade Dancer un-buckled straps and loosened bolts, dropping ruined pieces of armor onto the stone floor. _I must be able to move freely,_ Shinoa’s mood turned grim when she realized more than a third of her armor had been severely damaged, _I’ll just have to be careful in the Dance._ She leaned to retrieve her swords from the floor before returning to her crouch behind the pile of stone. She would watch, and wait for her chance.

     Shadowhyn dashed forward, her sword-staff sweeping low behind her, held at a downward angle. The Demon’s tail waved in the air, a sinuously flowing menace, before it struck with an almost blinding speed. It was no surprise to the Bishop, the effects of the spells she had cast on herself had heightened her senses, letting her perceive the Demon’s minute movements and possible avenues of attack. The Bishop had anticipated, and begun to slip sideways before the heavy bone-encrusted tail shattered the granite tiling where she had been a moment before. The splintering stone threw up a cloud of dust and shards, obscuring the human and her immediate surroundings.

     Nerkas chortled as he strode forward, flicking his tail about in evil glee, “ _No human can survi—”_ He hadn’t noticed the extra weight on his tail until it had vanished; the flash of light above his head gave him an instant’s warning. Growling in irritation, the Demon unfurled his wings, stretching them above his head, “ _I shall not fall for—!”_ His sentence was cut short in a twisted howl of pain as the Bishop’s fiery blade sliced through his wings, the thin, membranous leather parting easily before the immense heat of her Holy Weapon.

     The Bishop dropped to the floor, giving her handiwork an instant’s glance before sprinting for the Demon’s legs. Her rage had taken over, the desire to destroy flowed through her veins. That oh-so-familiar voice continued to call to her, to appeal to her senses, but she would have none of it. _He killed them!_ **_~~Kill~~ ~~him~~!_** repeated itself over and over in her mind, the years of anger and guilt pushing to the forefront of her thoughts, churning about in her head. Nerkas back-peddled quickly, putting a bit of distance between his body and the blade she wielded so savagely.

     His tail flicked again, sweeping high, swinging at an angle for her shoulders. Shadowhyn ducked, fluidly spinning to avoid the counter-attack, never breaking her advance. The Demon swung his arms, claws extended, and she parried the thrusts, deflecting his movements with the flat of her blade, grinning at his snarls as the sword-staff blistered his hands. Even as she stepped closer to his body, his longer stride kept her at a distance. She hissed as another swing of his claws broke her advance, and she leapt forward, blade ready to remove the Demon’s hand at the wrist. He twisted, his tail a blur as it swept across her stomach.

     She blinked, and found herself tumbling across the Library. She came to a stop against the far wall, her body a mass of bruises and lacerations. She shook her head, watching the room spin briefly, before spitting, staining the stone floor with crimson. _He killed them! N… Nothing else matters!_ Shadowhyn staggered to her feet, her head swimming again as she put her weight on her right leg. Her thigh had turned a dark purple, and from the way her knee was tingling, it would soon start to swell. She snarled, pushing the pain away as she looked around for her staff. It returned to her hand, and the great blade blazed once more, brighter than before. She could feel her time running out… soon she would lack the strength to keep the sword-staff burning. “ ** _Shadaera, you must calm yourself._** _”_ _No, he killed them!_ Shadowhyn shook her head, forcing the voice away, letting her anger fuel her blade. She took a halting step forward, ignoring the pain that blossomed in her right leg, grinding her teeth as she ran to the Demon.

     His laughter made her blood seethe, “ _Coming back for more, human? So be it!”_ He groped for her with both hands, his tail a blur in the air. The Bishop avoided the first outstretched hand, slashed the great blade across his other forearm, barely bringing the flat of the blade around in time to block the Demon’s segmented tail. Even catching it as she had, the force of the blow knocked her sidelong, sliding across the uneven stone floor. Somehow she managed to retain her footing, and she ran at the Beast again. The Demon’s tail moved with deadly grace as it swung low, aiming for her legs. Shadowhyn planted her feet and buried the holy sword’s blade into the stone floor; Nerkas’ tail parted where it touched the blade’s edge, roughly a third of its length sent skittering across the floor. At his wordless howl, Shadowhyn sprinted inside his reach, spinning about as she drew the blade across his legs, slicing along his thick, muscled limbs. He collapsed to his knees, and screamed as she drove him back against the wall, her staff piercing his chest, pinning him to the stone.

     The Blade Dancer watched, not believing what she had seen. “ ** _Now Shinoa!_** _”_ Her sister’s voice was urgent, prompting her to move swiftly. “ ** _I cannot reach her, you must stop her from doing that which she will regret._** _”_ Shinoa shook her head in confusion as she dashed toward the Bishop and the Demon, _What could Ulana mean by that?_ she mused. She reached Shadowhyn as the Bishop began tracing another Pattern in the air.

     “ _You cannot harm me, human!_ ” Nerkas snarled even as his blood poured onto the cold stone floor, “ _This shell may die, but I will return to the Flames until I can once again regain a physical body…_ ” He spat, his words hoarse, “ _And when I return I—_ ”

     _“_ You will _never_ return, Demon!” Shadowhyn snarled, her face contorted with anger. “You seem to know little about what control I have over your soul.” She laughed as she made the last motions to complete the Construct that floated before the Demon’s chest, and Shinoa felt a chill run down her spine.

     “Shadowhyn!” the young Dark Elf reached out to put a hand on the Bishop’s shoulder, “You mustn’t!”

     The Bishop’s eyes turned to her, and Shinoa felt another chill. There was no life in that gaze. Shadowhyn seemed surprised when she saw the Blade Dancer, and stretched a trembling hand to touch her cheek. “U… Ulana?” she whispered weakly. The Demon shifted his weight, attracting the Bishop’s notice, “He… He killed them, Ulana…” She stretched her hands to grip the end of her staff.

     “I know Shadowhyn, but you must not forget yourself. Don’t let your anger—”

     The Bishop’s gaze snapped back to the Blade Dancer, a dangerous light in her eyes, “I thought _you_ would understand!” She pointed at the Demon, “ _He killed my pare—”_ The remaining length of Nerkas’ tail slapped Shinoa back against the stone wall, knocking her breath from her lungs. Lunging at the Bishop, the Beast snared her wrist in his clawed grip, and pulled her off-balance. As his jagged fangs closed around her left shoulder, she shrieked. The Demon twisted his neck, feeling the bones in her arm surrender to his strength, and he spat, sending the red-haired woman reeling. Another swing of his tail stretched her out on the floor, her screams cut short as she struck the stones.

     Something struck him in the back, sending him falling forward. He looked down to see the tips of the Blade Dancer’s swords protruding from his chest; from over his shoulder he could hear her worried cries directed to the Bishop. He scrabbled across the stone floor, hobbling on his hands and knees. He would be beyond the Master’s reach for quite some time… His Master would surely find another one suitable for his plan. Nerkas crawled over the Bishop’s broken form, and Shinoa cried out again in warning. His Master would see why he had to kill this one.

     Over the Demon’s mad laughter, she could still hear the Bishop groaning. “ _Shadowhyn!_ ” the Blade Dancer screamed, “ _Wake up!_ ” Shadowhyn’s eyes fluttered as she struggled to open them, her eyes unfocused. Nerkas raised a clawed hand to strike, and Shinoa grappled with his arm, wrapping her legs around his chest, trying to hold him still. “ _Shadaera!_ ” The Bishop blinked, groaning as lucidity returned for a moment.

     _“I’ll send you to see your parents, wretch!”_ Nerkas snarled as he struggled against the Blade Dancer’s efforts to stay his arm.

     Shadowhyn looked at him, recognition blooming in her eyes. She raised her right hand, placing her palm against his chest. The Demon froze as a harsh yellow glow surrounded the Bishop’s body; Shadowhyn glared at the Beast, breathing a single word: “Die.” Light seared the room.

     Shinoa opened her eyes. She was… lying on the Library floor? Her entire body hurt. _What happened?_ She tried to sit up, but a weight held her down. She glanced down to see the red-haired woman draped across her chest, the human’s skin a frightening shade of white. “ ** _Quickly Shinoa, she needs help._** _”_ Shinoa nodded, dully accepting the unspoken command phrased in her sister’s remark. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how she was speaking to Ulana. No matter. Enough time for that later. The Blade Dancer sat up, gently putting the Bishop down onto the stone floor. In the failing fire-light, she searched through the rubble for their shoulder bags. They had brought Scrolls, she just had to find them. Finding the Bishop’s shoulder bag under a bookshelf, the young Dark Elf stumbled her way back to the human’s side. She fumbled the bag open, and several Scrolls fell out onto the floor, followed by a roll of bandages. Shinoa eyed the bandages, wondering if the human had enough time for a field-dressing. A chilling amount of blood had oozed from the woman’s ruined arm; Shinoa reached for the bandages, “Will she live, sister?” half expecting a reply. She must be mad.

     **_“Only if Shadaera wants to live._** _”_ Oh yes, she was definitely mad.

     The red-haired woman hissed at the Blade Dancer’s touch, “ _Ula… na?_ ” her hoarse whisper was barely audible to the Dark Elf’s keen hearing, “ _Don’t… don’t leave me… please_ …”

     Blue flame swelled in the dark, leaving the room devoid of life.


	15. IV. Apprehension

 

 

 **Apprehension** _n._ : Anticipation, mostly of things unfavorable; distrust or fear at the prospect of future evil.

 

 

     The wind roared past the few windows that Daria had yet to secure; it whistled and moaned along the length of the Inn’s main hall, rattling the panes of glass in their stone-and-wood casements. Dadrabian carried a ladder and flint as he tended to the chandeliers, lighting candles and lanterns, hoping to drive the darkness of the storm away. Even after all the time they’d lived on the Island, it never ceased to amaze the Truthbearer siblings at how quickly the weather could turn foul.

     DragonClaw sat at one of the tables, warming herself in front of the nearby fireplace. A stack of folded papers sat at one of the Paladin’s elbows, and several small gold-purses were set at the other. Thainn and Sado accompanied her; the Dwarf helped DragonClaw to take account of the Guild’s profits and supplies, as the marksman emptied yet another tankard of ale. Taking one last look over the figures that Thainn had produced, DragonClaw swore under her breath, “Fool of a man, Sado! You drink away more money than you bring in!” Lunging across the table, the Guild Leader snatched the pouch of coins hanging at the lounging HawkEye’s belt.

     “H-Hey!” the man swallowed, almost dropping his drink as he sat upright, “What was that for?”

     DragonClaw shook a finger in his face as she settled back in her chair, “No more ale for you, Sado. You’re staying dry for a while.”

     The gray-haired Warsmith chuckled at the dismay on Sado’s face, “Aye lad, ye best be stayin’ a wee bit sober fer a few days.” The Dwarf hoisted his own drink, “Ye never know when ye need all yer wits about ye.”

     Lightning cracked the sky, sending a floor-rattling peal of thunder to chase along after. The entrance to the Inn, a massive pair of ornately carved wood doors, shuddered from an impact, the sound lost in the storm’s roar. The wooden beam securing the entrance from the storms’ wind flexed and cracked, causing the three adventurers and their two hosts to start, and look for the source of the noise. “What in blazes…” Dadrabian muttered. Another impact, now audible in the absence of thunder, caused the beam to split, throwing both doors wide open under the force of the storm. Rain streamed off the awning in sheets, the wind blowing some of it into the Inn’s hall. An indistinct figure stumbled into the foyer, spilling rainwater off its cloak and muddying the floor.

     At the figure’s appearance, DragonClaw and Thainn stood to face the presence, while Sado tipped his chair backwards, rolling off his neck and shoulders to land on his hands and feet off to the side. The Paladin snatched her curved axe from where it stood next to her chair; the Warsmith hefted his shield and loosed his great-axe from its belt loop; Sado, his bow unstrung and standing in the corner of his room, fumbled for his long belt knife. Blood dripped from beneath the cloak, and Daria gasped. Her eyes went wide, and Dadrabian moved to place himself between her and the figure. A pale gray hand, bloodied, appeared from beneath a corner of the cloak, pulling it from the figure.

     Shinoa’s yellow eyes shimmered in the firelight, tears streaming down her face. She sagged to the floor, exhausted. Blood streaked her broken armor, running and mixing with the rain water pooling at her feet. In her arms, the Bishop was soaked, but with more blood than water dripping from her body. Her face and limbs were bruised, and her left arm roughly bandaged; Shadowhyn had lost consciousness, having long since turned a deathly pale.

     “Please!” Shinoa sobbed, “Help me!”

     Old training kicked in as Dadrabian sprang forward, lifting the Bishop’s limp body from Shinoa’s arms. Daria stood with her hands to her face, eyes and mouth gaping at the sight of the frail red-headed woman’s injuries. “Daria!” Dadrabian stood, turning to face his sister, gently shifting the weight in his arms, “Quickly! Go fetch some towels and hot water!” He looked over at the three Guildsmen, “I’m taking her to the small guest room,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the staircase.

     DragonClaw blinked and nodded her head at the old Knight. “Sado,” She pointed, “Go get Rhia and the others from the tavern!” The archer leapt over his over-turned chair and sprinted out the door, shielding his face from the rain. “Thainn, help Dadrabian, I’ll go get some bandages.” The dwarf took off after the Inn Keeper, dropping his axe and shield at the table as he left.

     Thainn turned back to look at the main hall; Shinoa still sat on the floor, staring off into the distance. “Shinoa, lass!” She looked at him, blankly. “Come child! We’ll need yer help.” She struggled to her feet, shrugging off her sheaths and loosening the straps of her cloak, letting them fall to the floor as she headed for the stairs.

     The Inn-Keeper moved swiftly down the narrow hallway, twisting and turning as he walked to keep the Bishop’s limbs from striking a piece of furniture. Dadrabian backed into the door of the guest room, pushing it open with his shoulder. Thainn followed, reaching up to grab one of the lanterns off the wall in the corridor. The lantern’s flickering yellow light filled the small room; a sturdy bed sat in the center of the wall to their left. A stack of chairs stood in the corner near the headboard, while a small chest sat at the foot of the bed, and a large dark wooded cabinet sat alongside the opposite wall. A row of windows looked out onto the Village’s market square, the casements bolted shut against the tugging winds. Shinoa stumbled in as the Warsmith tore the heavy quilts off the bed, moving aside as Dadrabian gently laid the Bishop on the white linen sheets. Thainn used the lantern to light the candles in the room.

     “What happened, Shinoa?” Dadrabian snapped as he examined the Bishop’s left arm. The Dark Elf blinked, still unsure of herself. “Well?” The old Knight’s eyes grew worried as he undid the hastily tied bandage. “Oh Gods…”

     Thainn edged close, holding the lantern over the bed. “By Maphyr’s coffers…”

     Shadowhyn groaned from the pain of her bandage being untied. Her eyes opened, rolling around, unable to focus. Blood flowed, unnaturally dark, from beneath the wrapped layers of fabric. As Dadrabian finished removing the bandage, both he and the Dwarf could see the twisted, broken bones protruding from the pale woman’s upper arm, her flesh torn and shredded. The Bishop gasped before coughing blood, her eyes glazing over as tears streamed down her face. Shinoa slumped to the floor, looking away from the scene in front of her.

     “What manner of sorcery is this?” Dadrabian’s husky voice sounded hollow. Both men could see ragged claw marks in the woman’s arm and jagged rows of punctures in her shoulder, from which a black and green hue seemed to be spreading throughout the torn flesh.

     Daria appeared in the doorway, with a stack of towels under one arm and a bucket of steaming water in the other hand. She gasped in fright when she caught sight of the wound. “Sister, I need something to clean this!” Dadrabian motioned for a towel. Thainn quickly stepped to the head of the bed, hanging the lantern on the hook next to the headboard. Daria set the bucket on the floor and immediately began soaking one of the towels in the hot water.

     “We… were searching for… clues…” Shinoa began, still dazed, watching everything with a detached look on her face.

     “What? What could have done this, lass?” Thainn questioned the Drow.

     “Th-then… there were… too many… but we were… holding our ground.” DragonClaw entered the room, hurriedly looking through a shoulder bag. She handed a roll of bandages to Daria, and knelt in front of the Dark Elf.

     Cradling Shinoa’s face in her hands, DragonClaw thumbed her eyelids open, examining the young Drow’s pupils. “Are you alright?” she asked, apparently satisfied by what she saw in the Drow’s golden gaze, before beginning to check the Blade Dancer’s cuts and bruises.

     “I… She… I heard... Ulana,” Shinoa gazed at the Paladin, emotionless, “I talked to her.” She stifled a groan as the Guild Leader’s fingers probed one of her lacerations. “Am I… going mad?”

     DragonClaw pulled Shinoa forward, holding her close as Shinoa began trembling. Thainn stepped over to place a hand on Shinoa’s shoulder. The young Dark Elf reached up to pat his hand, and pushed her head closer to DragonClaw’s chest. “It’s all right,” DragonClaw whispered.

     “Here sister, hold this towel here…” Dadrabian muttered as he looked over the Bishop’s wounded arm. “Alright, thanks.” He cast a glance at his sister, “Daria, check the rest of her body, there may be more injuries we’ve not seen yet.” She nodded, her eyes still wide with worry. “Thainn,” the Inn Keeper called over his shoulder, “I need your help, please.” The Dwarf nodded, and stepped over to the side of the bed opposite the old Knight.

     As Daria began to check the rest of the Bishop’s limbs, Dadrabian looked across the bed at Thainn. “I’m sure you know this is serious,” the Inn Keeper began.

     “Aye lad, we need ta’ set tha’ arm…” The old Warsmith looked closer at the wound, “and we need ta’ keep tha’ infection from spreadin’ ta’ tha’ rest o’ her.”

     Dadrabian sighed as he inspected the torn flesh, “You’re right. We need to clean out the area… Where’s that water-elf when you need her?”

     Thainn grinned, and let out a grim chuckle. “Aye… she could do it.” The floor vibrated faintly, and the sound of the Inn’s front door slamming shut echoed down the hall. “Tha’ may be her now.” Thainn turned to run out the door.

     “Master Dwarf!” Thainn stopped, and looked at the old Knight. “We’ll need a splint or a brace.”

     “Aye laddie,” the Warsmith waved as he left the room, “I’ll do me best.”

     “Brother,” Daria used a pair of scissors to cut the remainder of the stocking from Shadowhyn’s right leg. “I think her leg is broken above the knee… but it looks like it could be a clean break.”

     “Well…” He shook his head, “That may be the best news yet.” He ran a hand over the pale woman’s hair, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I’m sorry for your pain, Shadowhyn,” the old Knight said softly, “But we’re doing everything we can.”

     The Bishop looked at him, blankly, not really seeing his face. “ _I f-found him… Mama…_ ” She whispered faintly, her mind elsewhere.

     “What did she say?” DragonClaw turned towards the bed.

     “She was… fighting,” Shinoa began, her voice muffled by DragonClaw’s tunic, “before… before she…”

     “Before she what, m’lady?” Daria asked.

     “I… don’t know… what she did.”

     Rhianwen and Sado appeared in the doorway. “Oh, sweet child,” the fair-haired Elf gasped, “Eva preserve her!”

     “Sado, grab her legs, Rhia, hold her shoulders!” Dadrabian reached for a clean roll of bandages, unfurling it across the broken woman’s chest. “I need to apply a tourniquet, or she’ll bleed to death.” Rhianwen stepped to the side of the bed opposite the Inn Keeper, and gingerly placed her hands on the Bishop’s shoulders.

     Shadowhyn’s head rolled to face Rhianwen, her eyes not seeing the present. “ _Rhian… wen?_ ”

     “Shhh… be still now, child,” tears began to form in the Elf’s eyes as she smiled down at the injured woman.

     “ _Welcome… to our guil—_ Ah!” The small woman gasped in pain as Sado put pressure on her legs.

     “Easy now, Shadsy, easy.” The HawkEye’s face was twisted with fear, “You’ll be fine.”

     “Brace her,” Dadrabian gently slid one end of the bandage under the Bishop’s torn left shoulder, “I’m going to tie this… Now!”

     The Bishop gasped, her eyes wide as she struggled to breathe through the pain. Her body flexed as Dadrabian tightened the bandage around her shoulder, cutting off the circulation to her twisted arm. Sado and Rhianwen pressed down on the frail woman, surprised by the strength she had. Shadowhyn half rolled onto her right side, eyes glazed over, unseeing. Her chest spasmed as she began coughing blood; with one last heave, her body went limp, her eyes rolling back in her head.

     “What happened?” Shinoa struggled to stand, pulling against DragonClaw’s grip, “Wh- _What’s going on_?”

     “Be at ease, little one,” Rhianwen said quietly as she closed the Bishop’s half-open eyes. “She fainted, is all.”

     Dadrabian wiped the dark, sickly blood from his hands. He looked over the bed at Rhianwen, shaking his head. “We need to clean this wound before we can set the bone.” He leaned close, looking at the gashes on the unconscious woman’s arm. “There’s some kind of infection here,” the Innkeeper glanced up at the Spellsinger, “Can you wash the area? I’ll go see how Thainn’s coming with a splint.”

     Rhianwen nodded, brushing the Bishop’s matted red hair. She watched as the old Knight left the room before stepping over to the injured woman’s side. Holding her hands over the broken bones and torn flesh, the Elf closed her eyes and started chanting softly. Water coalesced, swirling around her legs, churning and foaming as it flowed in a torrent. A small portion curled away from the raging circle and snaked up and around the Elf’s torso, and down her outstretched arms. Gently, it flowed around the Bishop’s arm, washing the dirt and gore from her wounds. Shadowhyn moaned softly in her sleep.

     “Sado, could you please open a window?” Rhianwen barely opened her eyes, still concentrating on the flow of water. The Hawkeye straightened from the foot of the bed, crossed the room, and began working one of the window latches. As soon as he had opened the window a crack, the steady thrum of the rain grew louder as the scent of fresh air floated into the room. “Stand clear of the window, please,” the Spellsinger opened her eyes further, “I’m going to cast the water out, when I’m finished.” Sado returned to the foot of the bed, resting on the wooden cross-beam, his arms folded over his chest.

     Rhianwen muttered something under her breath; the tone of her voice raised the Paladin’s head. “What’s wrong?” DragonClaw looked up at the Elf, holding her voice steady despite her sudden pang of worry.

     “I’ve never seen this before…” Rhianwen’s voice trailed off. Sado sat up, turning to look over his shoulder. He froze, staring at the Bishop’s arm. The ring of water Rhianwen had formed around the woman’s wound flowed swiftly; the blood it carried from the wound was still a sickly black. A strange greenish hue, oozing from the wounds, was spreading through the flow of water, threatening to taint the stream the Spellsinger had directed around her torso. “Get clear of the window!” Rhianwen commanded.

     DragonClaw pulled Shinoa toward the Hawkeye, crouching by the wooden armoire to shield the still-shivering Dark Elf with her body, as Rhianwen turned to face the window. Flexing and weaving her fingers, the greenish tint reaching nearly to the swirl of water at her feet, the Elf gestured at the open window as a glistening Construct flared between her hands. The swirl erupted, twisting into a ball that hung between the Elf’s hands. Rhianwen was shocked; as much as she tried to cast the water away, it resisted her commands. She started for the window, walking unsteadily. The ball of water, now thoroughly clouded with the sickly green, weighed heavily above the Spellsinger’s arms. Staggering to the window, Rhianwen threw the ball out into the rain-soaked air as she loosed her hold on the spell; the sickly green fluid expanded rapidly as it fell to the earth. The Elf blinked in surprise; _Did I hear a thud?_ She wondered as she watched while the foul water seemed to melt the muddy ground, steaming as the rain continued to fall. DragonClaw sat up, helping Shinoa to her knees.

     Rhianwen sagged to the floor, her legs weak from the unexpected strain of containing a… _What was that!_ Thainn and Dadrabian stepped through the door, discussing a pair of metal rods that the dwarf held in his hands. Daria followed softly, stepping over to DragonClaw, and whispered in her ear.

     DragonClaw nodded, and looked to the Spellsinger, “Rhia, help Daria take Shin down to the Hall, if you would.” There was a grim set to the Paladin’s jaw as she spoke quietly, “We’re going to try setting Shadaera’s broken arm.” Her eyes softened in worry, “I don’t want Shin in here… and you might not want to be, either.” Daria’s face was pale as she slipped Shinoa’s arm over her shoulder, helping her to stand. She spoke quietly to the young Dark Elf, forcing cheer into her voice, attempting to ease the exhausted Blade Dancer’s mood.

     Rhianwen stood, her legs unsteady, and nodded to the Guild Leader. Turning to Dadrabian, the Elf bowed. “I leave her in your hands, Sir Knight.”

     Dadrabian nodded, exuding confidence though his face uncertain. “Thank you for cleaning the wound, m’Lady.”

     Rhianwen opened her mouth to speak, but DragonClaw put a hand on her shoulder, “I will tell him. You need to go rest.” The Spellsinger nodded, and slipped an arm around Shinoa’s waist, helping her walk out of the room.

     Rhianwen and Daria helped Shinoa settle into a chair at a table in the Hall, near the great fireplace. Phoebus Apollo and Lord Viper had laid claim to one of the small tables close by, their brows furrowed in concentration as they moved colored stones about on a wooden game board. Mauldis sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, whet-stone in hand as he sharpened his fist blades, while Keos lay on a couch near the Tyrant, a thick leather-bound novel in his hands. Rhianwen sat next to the Dark Elf, worry creasing both women’s faces. The others turned to the Spellsinger, questioning looks on their faces; she shook her head.

     A whistle sounded from the kitchen, and Daria ran off with a promise of hot tea. Footsteps sounded on the stairs—the rapid pace spoke of hurry—and Rhianwen turned to see Sado sprint towards the door. He waved over his shoulder, and called “I’ll be back soon!” as he disappeared into the rain-soaked night, his muffled curses at the weather swiftly vanishing in the dark. Daria appeared with a tray of cups, and a steaming pot. Pouring for those at the table, the hostess tried to keep spirits high. Rhianwen nodded thanks to the woman as she accepted a cup; Shinoa leaned forward to lay her head on her crossed forearms, groaning softly with the movement.

     Phoebus stared at the Inn’s entrance before looking back to the playing board, “What was that about, I wonder?” he grunted sourly. Rhianwen shrugged; Daria set a glass before Shinoa who mumbled her thanks.

     “Where are Droxanna and Slifer?” the Spellsinger inquired after taking a sip of her tea, “Did they stay at the tavern?”

     “Drox thought it best to retrieve some of Shadow’s belongings from her quarters,” Keos replied, laying his book down as he sat up from where he lounged, “And the Sorcerer went along to help… disarm her traps.”

     Shinoa shifted, reaching for her cup, “There were quite a few,” she muttered. The Bishop’s scream, muffled by the closed door of the bedroom, echoed from the upper floor. Daria’s hand shook as she continued pouring tea for her guests. Shinoa’s eyes widened at the sound, and she began to stand. Rhianwen put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down into the chair. The Blade Dancer opened her mouth to speak, but a look from the Spellsinger silenced her.

     “Let us pray,” the Elf said softly.

     

***

     

     Dadrabian watched as his sister helped the Elves leave the room before turning back to the Paladin, “Tell me what, now?” Thainn busied himself by gently setting one metal brace around Shadowhyn’s broken leg, securing the limb until there was time to tend to it.

     DragonClaw shook her head, the worry still etched in her face. “Rhianwen was washing out the wound, and something seemed to… fight for control of the water.” The Innkeeper blinked; he’d never heard of such a thing.

     Thainn’s face mirrored Dadrabian’s shock, “Take over her water, ye say? Och. What happened to ye, lass?” He looked down at the Bishop, still sleeping fitfully on the bed.

     DragonClaw spoke up, looking at the Hawkeye leaning against the wardrobe, “Given how vicious the wounds are, I think they will have to be Purified before any Healing can be done.” Sado nodded slowly, his mind grasping what the Guild Leader intended. He caught the pouch of gold the woman tossed to him, “Go get the others, all the reinforcements you can find. Whatever attacked them may make a move on the Village. Make sure to bring Nifii and Evil back with you... She’ll not survive long without them.” The man nodded, and ran out the door.

     “Well,” Dadrabian rolled up his sleeves, “Let’s set this bone then, shall we?” DragonClaw and Thainn nodded. “Thainn, hold her legs, please. DeeCee, if you’d take her shoulders…” The Innkeeper looked closely at the break; the upper part of the arm had been twisted until the bone broke, causing it to protrude where the flesh had been slashed by what the old Knight thought were claws. Higher up the arm, and on the front and back of the woman’s shoulders were terrible punctures formed in rough rows. “She’s got some luck left,” he said softly, motioning toward the bite marks, “Any farther down, and her heart would have been pierced.” He gently wrapped his right hand around the Bishop’s shoulder; at his touch the woman groaned as the pain disturbed her shallow sleep. Dadrabian chewed his lip. Shadowhyn’s eyes fluttered open, still not quite seeing the present, and wandered from face to face; tears began to well in her eyes as he shifted the lower part of her arm. “Here we go,” he said softly, and prepared to pull.

     “Wait!” DragonClaw loosed her grip on the Bishop’s upper body and looked around quickly before pulling at the straps of her gauntlet. “She might bite through her tongue, hold on...” The Paladin grabbed a strip of bandage from the bed and wrapped its length around the palm and knuckles of her left hand. She gently pulled at Shadowhyn’s jaw, and placed the side of her wrapped hand—a good two knuckles deep—between the Bishop’s teeth. Thainn shifted his weight, preparing himself. DragonClaw threw her other arm across the Bishop’s stomach, and nodded to Dadrabian, her face grim. Shadowhyn grunted in DragonClaw’s direction, not understanding her surroundings.

     “Forgive me, Shadaera,” Dadrabian clenched his teeth and pulled.

     The Bishop shrieked, a feral, inhuman sound that Dadrabian would never have imagined coming from the woman. Shadowhyn’s eyes grew wide as she was wrenched back to the present, the veins in her face and neck seeming to grow dark as all the color drained from her face. Tears poured from the injured woman’s eyes. DragonClaw ground her teeth as she choked back a cry of her own; the Bishop's teeth were cutting into the Paladin’s hand as she clenched her jaw in agony. “Almost…” Dadrabian swore softly as he continued to pull on the lower arm, desperate for the bones to line up.

     “Breathe, Shadow!” DragonClaw yelled at the Bishop. The injured woman seemed to have forgotten, concentrating on screaming around the Paladin’s hand.

     “There!” The Innkeeper sounded triumphant as the bone protruding from the skin slipped back inside the wound, guided back into place by the remaining muscles and tendons, “Quickly Thainn, the splint!”

     Thainn released the Bishop’s knees and grabbed the second metal framework off the foot of the bed, running to Dadrabian’s side. DragonClaw fought to keep the Bishop still; having her legs loose, she kicked and flailed about, trying to escape the pain. The Paladin kicked her own leg up onto the bed, pinning down the red-haired woman’s lower body. Swiftly the Warsmith lined the metal rods up to the Bishop’s arm, and tightened the leather straps at the shoulder, elbow and wrist, immobilizing the arm. Dadrabian released his grip on the arm, and Shadowhyn cried out one last time.

     DragonClaw pulled her weight from the smaller woman’s chest and legs. Free of the hands holding her down, the Bishop rolled onto her uninjured side, crying and gasping. A white glow surrounded the Paladin as DragonClaw began a slow chant.

     “What are you doing?” Dadrabian asked.

     “She’s tryin’ ta Heal th’ lass a wee bit.” Thainn didn’t look up from inspecting the splint; it seemed to be holding the arm just as he’d planned.

     Dadrabian looked down at the Warsmith, “But if the wound needs to be purified…” The blaze of light from DragonClaw’s Sacrifice caused the Innkeeper’s words to trail off into silence.

     DragonClaw knew something was wrong as soon as Shadowhyn screamed. The acrid smell of burnt flesh assaulted their eyes and noses; DragonClaw jumped away as the Bishop rolled onto her stomach to vomit before passing out.

     Dadrabian swore, coughing as he waved the stench from his nostrils. “Wha-What happened?” He managed to choke out the words.

     Thainn, having been inspecting the wound when the spell was cast, was doubled over at the side of the bed, his breathing hoarse. “Tha’ wound…” He panted, trying to free his breath, “is infected, all righ’.”

     DragonClaw knelt by the bed, checking the Bishop's eyes and feeling her neck for a pulse. “She’s still alive, thank Einhasad…” Tears ran down the Paladins face as she cradled the Bishop’s head to her chest, “I’m so sorry, Shadaera.”

     Dadrabian held his breath as he looked closer at the freshly-set arm. “It looks like… the effect of Sacrifice was reversed.”

     Thainn mumbled “What the bloody—” as DragonClaw gasped.

     The Innkeeper continued, “It seems to have burned her arm… but the rest of her cuts and bruises are gone.” He shook his head, and let out a grim laugh. “Poor little one… It looks to have cauterized her wound, at least. The bleeding has stopped.”

     DragonClaw wiped the Bishop’s face with a towel, and then the side of the bed and the floor. “Well, that certainly wasn’t the _way_ I wanted to help…” She ran her fingers through the unconscious woman’s hair, brushing the matted, dirty locks away from the Bishop’s face. “She’ll certainly have some choice words for me when she wakes up.”

     Dadrabian wiped his hands on his thoroughly stained apron. “Well, there’s nothing else we can do until the others come back with Sado.” He looked down at the woman lying on the bed, “We all need some rest, I think. But first,” He turned to the wardrobe, pulling out a bundle of fresh sheets, “let’s get some clean linens on the bed.”

     Thainn grunted, “Aye, wouldn’a be righ’ fer th’ lass ta be layin’ in tha’ mess.”

     DragonClaw took the sheets from the old Knight as he said, “I’ll lift her.” The Innkeeper gently put an arm under the Bishop’s knees and the other under her shoulder.

     “Good thing she’s unconscious,” DragonClaw muttered as Shadowhyn was lifted just high enough for Thainn to pull the foul linens from the bed. The Paladin quickly spread the clean sheets beneath the woman, and Dadrabian gently set her back down.

     “ _Now_ we should rest,” The Innkeeper clapped a hand on Thainn’s shoulder. “That’s a magnificent splint, Master Dwarf. I think its craftsmanship deserves an ale.”

     Thainn grinned before a worried frown crept back onto his face, “Aye laddie, tha’ do sound good ta’ me at th’ moment.”

     The Innkeeper looked across the bed at DragonClaw, who had pulled a chair next to the bed to sit beside the Bishop. “Can I bring you anything?”

     She stared at Shadowhyn’s face for a moment before answering slowly, “Some water would be… would be appreciated.” He nodded before walking from the room, leading Thainn down the stairs.

     Rhianwen and Shinoa heard the footsteps approaching before anyone else in the Hall. Seeing the two Elves turn to the staircase, the other Guild Members paused in their conversations. Rhianwen stood, her eyes widening as she took in the Innkeeper’s bloodied arms and apron.

     “How is she?” Shinoa asked before the Spellsinger could open her mouth.

     “We’ve set the arm and… stopped the bleeding,” Dadrabian wiped his hands absent-mindedly, fouling his apron further, “We have to wait until Sado returns before anything else can be done for Shadowhyn.”

     Shinoa stood, her legs still shaking, “Can I go up there? I want to see her!” Rhianwen held up a hand to the Dark Elf, intending to have her sit back down.

     “Shinoa, Rhianwen, come up here, please.” DragonClaw appeared briefly at the top of the stairs before disappearing down the upstairs hallway.

     Dadrabian smiled, “You go right ahead, Shinoa. Rhianwen, she asked for some water…” He stepped into the kitchen and returned with a mug and a full pitcher for the Spellsinger, and nodded to the Elves as they hurried up the stairs. He took in the other Guild Members, watching him. “So, let me get cleaned up,” He headed back to the kitchen, “and I’ll get started on some dinner. Who’s hungry?”

     Shinoa entered the room and stopped, gagging at the stench that lingered there. Clapping her hands over her mouth, the Blade Dancer walked close to the bed, sitting down near the Bishop’s knees. DragonClaw sat in the chair at the head of the bed, watching Shadowhyn sleep. Rhianwen entered with the pitcher of water for the Paladin and coughed, wrinkling her nose.

     “What’s that smell?” Shinoa asked, her voice muffled by her hands.

     DragonClaw shook her head, “Ignore it, if you can.”

     The Spellsinger handed a mug of icy water to the Paladin, and looked down at the Bishop, “Her splint seems to be doing its job well.” The Guild Leader nodded, taking a drink from her mug.

     Shinoa put her hand on DragonClaw’s knee, and asked softly, “Do you think… she’ll die?”

     The Paladin laughed—a bitter, remorseful sound. “She’s been beyond death once before, I don’t see how _this_ could slow her down.”

     Shinoa froze, her muscles going rigid, “What do you mean?”

     DragonClaw looked at the Dark Elf, “She didn’t tell you? Oh, wait,” The woman laughed again, bitterly, “How silly of me. She couldn’t remember that.” Rhianwen set the water pitcher on top of the chest before pulling another chair close, settling down to listen. DragonClaw leaned forward to unlace the ties at the side of the Bishop’s tunic, and gently pulled it open. “Have you seen this before?” The Paladin asked; Shinoa and Rhianwen could see a scar that began at the base of the Bishop’s neck, stretching and curving across the right side of the woman’s chest to the bottom of her ribcage.

     Shinoa nodded, “Yes, I caught a glimpse of that scar when we camped at her homestead...” The young Dark Elf fidgeted in her chair, “I thought to ask about it, but the way she looked around before undressing, and with how she wrapped her cloak around herself… I didn’t think it was… well… something I should question.”

     The Paladin nodded as she lowered the side of the woman’s tunic, and retied the lacings before looking Shinoa in the eye, “Shadowhyn died with Ulana, that night.”

     

*****


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

     “We were, for all intents and purposes, trapped there,” the Paladin began, a pained look surfacing in her eyes. “The Undead horde had appeared suddenly, and with such numbers that… well… I was convinced we would _all_ die.” She looked over at the Bishop lying on the bed next to her, “If Shadow and Ulana had obeyed my order to return to the Village… perhaps I would have died there instead.” She looked up at Shinoa and opened her mouth to speak. She faltered, and thought for a moment before continuing. “Then again, perhaps not… you see,”

      

***

      

     “There’s something here!” The Bishop’s voice echoed weakly across the great room the trio had discovered.

     DragonClaw looked back toward the platform, keeping an ear turned to the heavy stone blockade, and called back, “Do you know what it is?” A faint vibration in the floor distracted the Guild Leader, and in her focus on the wall of granite the Bishop’s reply was pushed to the back of her mind. _This should hold against even a—_ The blockade shifted, the stones grinding against the rough floor, and DragonClaw put her shoulder to its center while drawing her axe and slipping a hand through her shield’s straps. Her armored boots gripped the stone floor exceptionally well, and she threw her entire strength against the stones. _Einhasad help me!_ The Paladin felt the pressure against the granite ease, and she breathed deeply and glanced about. DragonClaw swore under her breath when she saw Shadowhyn stumbling across the bridge linking the platform to the main floor.

     Re-adjusting her grip on the straps of her shield, DragonClaw waved her axe-arm at the exhausted woman, “Stay there Shadowhyn, you need to rest!” The barricade jumped and shuddered, and she felt a chill run down her spine when she glanced down at the floor. The steel cleats on her boots had carved shallow gashes in the stone. _It’s moving?!_ “And you need to watch Ulana!” she called to the Bishop in hopes that it would turn her around. The blockade lurched again, and sparks scattered from her boots as well as the stone that ground against her shield. The Paladin turned her attention back to the stones, her feet clawing for purchase.

     “I can… set a Ward—” Shadowhyn gasped.

     DragonClaw clenched her teeth as she pushed, “Are you strong enough?” she snapped, her words cut short as she groaned against the barricade, “Be honest!” Her back and legs trembled as she strained against her shield. The force pushing inward vanished, and she stumbled forward against the granite blocks. _No!_

     With a grinding shriek, the upper half of the barricade tipped forward, the heavy stones pounding into the floor around DragonClaw. She jumped to the side, just escaping a falling block, and was instantly swallowed by the cloud of dust thrown into the air by the stone pulverizing stone. The Paladin thought she heard Shadowhyn scream something as the blocks began to fall, but now her ears rang and her breath was too clogged with dust to respond. Waving her arms to try and clear the air around her head, DragonClaw stumbled away from the corridor entrance coughing, making sure to keep the barricade to her right.

     A clattering vibration in the floor behind her made her turn, and a skeleton lunged out of the dust cloud. Reflex brought her shield around, and the Undead shrieked as she slammed its body against a slab of rock, shattering its spine and ribcage. Another skeleton clambered over the slab and flung itself at the Paladin. She drove the edge of her shield upward, and took the creature’s skull from its shoulders. More bone-white shapes flicked past in the dust cloud as the horde of Undead scaled the barricade and dropped into the great room. A passing skeleton shifted the dust cloud, exposing the stone floor beyond, and a thrill ran through the woman. _There!_ DragonClaw thought as she ran for the edge of the cloud. A roar made her turn, and a new chill ran down her spine when she caught sight of the mass of Undead that chased after her.

     The cloud ended abruptly and DragonClaw could clearly see her attackers. She kept moving; dodging falling stones and fending off the scrambling skeletons, the Paladin split one walking corpse after another with her axe. She swung her arm wide, using her momentum to pivot on one leg, shattering more than a dozen at a time, but more Skeletons piled into the room to take their place.

     “Dra… _Dragon!_ ” The Bishop’s voice rang out over the din of the Undead.

     The Paladin spared a quick glance in the direction of the bridge; the main group of skeletons marched swiftly toward the platform, and Shadowhyn had fallen on the stone bridge. “ _Run Shadow!_ ” DragonClaw’s arm blurred as her axe carved through the crowd around her. “ _Take Ula back to t—”_ her voice was cut short as the roaring sea of skeletons swelled, swallowing her beneath re-animated bone. Ducking beneath her shield, DragonClaw’s shoulders and legs quivered under the assault. _Focus now,_ she clenched her teeth as she concentrated on the mental Pattern she had to trace, _and..._

     A blaze of light swept around the Paladin as she finished her spell, and a rushing wind around her body tore the last words of the incantation from her lips. Points of light flared into view around her body before streaking through the air to begin tracing brilliant lines of white. As a great, glowing suit of ethereal armor coalesced around the Paladin, DragonClaw smiled to herself. The Skeleton’s assault waned as their forceful blows ricocheted off the shimmering white glow, and the Paladin pushed upward, throwing the Skeletons atop her shield into the mass of Undead that surrounded her. The Skeletons nearby shied away from the Holy armor the Paladin had summoned; she concentrated again, and a brilliant disc of light blazed above her head. Rays of light swept out from the disc, and the Undead that were touched simply turned to ash.

     Dozens drew close to hammer ineffectively against her summoned armor, yet still more Undead advanced toward the platform, _If I can just keep them away from Shadow and Ula..._ DragonClaw formed an empty sphere in her mind and poured intense hatred into the void as she focused on the mass of Skeletons marching toward the bridge. “Come to me!” She called as a flicker of bluish light encircled a great portion of the Undead crowd. The Paladin stared in disbelief as the Skeletons continued their march, ignoring her Aura completely. Desperately, she cast again and again, to no affect. She stood there, feeling numb, as she watched the exhausted Bishop begin to fight. _No..._ She tried to move her feet, but the glowing armor that encased her body held her feet to the stone floor. _No!_ DragonClaw held a hand out toward the platform, reaching out to her Guild Sisters. _Stop fighting and run, Shadow! Both of you..._

     A terrible howl echoed around the cavernous room, and the torches on the wall flickered as a wind seemed to tug at the flames. DragonClaw looked down in surprise; the shadows cast by her glowing armor began to slide across the floor, and the dark, lightless areas of the room melted toward the platform. The Paladin looked toward the bridge, and saw the Skeletons almost on top of the two women. _Wait_ , she narrowed her eyes, _What’s wrong with Ulana?_ Black swirls wrapped around the battered Dark Elf, twisting and dancing before plunging into her chest and erupting from her back. A jet-black shape emerged; two glistening white eyes surveyed the room, before it vanished into the platform. _Was… was that the Soulless?_ DragonClaw stared in horror as she watched Shadowhyn try to crawl back to Ulana, who had been tossed onto the pedestal by the black winds, _The bloodprice alone will_ —

     A shriek to her left brought her attention back to her immediate surroundings, and the Paladin swiftly brought her shield up to block a spray of bone shards. The Skeletons around her looked about in surprise as the _Soulless_ flickered into sight, shattering and dismembering the Undead in its reach with its vicious claws. DragonClaw watched as the servitor destroyed the Skeletons with ease, and a frown crept across the woman’s face. She looked back to the platform, and groaned as she watched Shadowhyn try to climb up onto the altar next to Ulana. The Paladin strained against her glowing armor, _Please! Let me go to them!_ Tears welled in her eyes as her legs refused to move.

      

***

      

     Shinoa and Rhianwen looked at the somber Paladin as she spoke. DragonClaw paused as she wiped a tear from her eye, “I intended to yell at the two of them,” she smiled as Rhianwen snickered, “I swear, those two never listened to me.” DragonClaw glanced at the sleeping Bishop and laughed quietly before looking at the two Elves, “She’ll be the death of me, yet, I guarantee it.” The three women grinned briefly.

     Shinoa leaned forward, “What happened then?” she asked softly.

     “Well,” DragonClaw said as she stretched and stifled a yawn, “My Ultimate Defense faded soon after that…”

      

***

      

     DragonClaw’s heart raced as she ran across the narrow bridge leading to the altar, her heavy plated boots striking sparks against the worked stone. She slowed as she reached the platform, and came to a stop at the edge of the massive stone table. Ulana lay on her side in the center of the table, and the Paladin shivered when she saw the amount of blood that had pooled around the Dark Elf’s torso. Shadowhyn had managed to climb onto the altar beside Ulana, and lay curled on her side with her arm held out to grasp the Summoner’s hand. The Bishop’s back was turned to the Paladin, and the exhausted woman was so intent on the Dark Elf that she didn’t notice DragonClaw approach.

     Ulana’s voice was incredibly weak, “Tell Shinoa… that I… th-that…” the Dark Elf’s lips continued moving silently, and her eyes lifted from Shadowhyn’s face to stare beyond DragonClaw. The Paladin’s blood ran cold as she watched the light in Ulana’s eyes fade.

     “Ula… U-Ula?...” Shadowhyn’s trembling voice was a whisper, “ _Ulana?_ ”

     A swirl of black at DragonClaw’s side signaled the _Soulless’_ arrival. It slowly took shape from the mass of darkness and looked silently down at the Dark Elf. The Paladin looked from the servitor to the Summoner, before quietly asking, “Is… will she…?”

     _Soulless_ nodded, a quick, savage motion. **_~~Nothing~~ ~~can~~ ~~save~~ ~~Ulana-mas~~ ~~from~~ ~~this~~ ~~path~~ ,_** the servitor’s words grated against the Paladin’s mind before it began to fade from sight, its black shape dissipating in a roiling cloud of dark smoke. DragonClaw sighed as she watched the Bishop struggle to pull herself closer to the Summoner; the red-haired woman’s sobs echoed faintly in the cavernous room. Another dark swirl blackened the air beside the Paladin, and she looked over in surprise. _Soulless’_ shape grew distinct before gradually re-softening at its edges.

     “Why are you still here?” the Guild Leader asked.

     The servitor snarled and bared its claws, **_~~It~~ ~~seems~~ ~~Edan~~ ~~Amandil~~ ~~seeks~~ ~~to~~ ~~prolong~~ ~~Ulana~~ - ~~mas’~~ ~~life~~ … ~~Until~~ ~~Ulana~~ - ~~mas~~ ~~dies~~ ~~or~~ ~~dismisses~~ ~~me~~ , ~~I~~ ~~cannot~~ ~~be~~ ~~released~~ ~~from~~ ~~my~~ ~~blood~~ - ~~pact~~._**

     “Shadowhyn’s… what?” DragonClaw turned back to stare down at the women lying on the altar, and gasped when she caught sight of the Construct linking the two. “Wait, so you’re saying we can save—”

     “ _No._ ”

     DragonClaw and the _Soulless_ turned to see who had spoken. A faint white shimmer appeared in the center of the bridge, which grew into a great cloud of light. A single Dark Elven female stepped out of the cloud, a glimmering silver-gray robe draped across her semi-solid form. The Paladin’s eyes narrowed in recognition, a face so similar to Ulana’s but showing more age—

     “You are… Mayuri?” DragonClaw asked.

     The spirit nodded, her regal stride never slowing, “ _I have returned for my daughter._ ”

     The _Soulless’_ growl made the Paladin’s skin crawl, and it flickered into view on the bridge between the old Blade Dancer’s spirit and the platform. **_~~I~~ ~~am~~ ~~pact~~ - ~~bound~~ ~~to~~ ~~prot~~ — _**

     Mayuri’s face betrayed no emotion as she lifted a hand, “ _I release you_ ,” she stated as she drew her fingers down the center of the servitor’s shape. The _Soulless_ dissolved in a wreath of smoke; DragonClaw looked back at the altar as the injured women groaned.

     “What do you intend…” the Paladin turned back to the empty bridge.

     DragonClaw wheeled around, her hand sliding down the textured haft of the axe hanging at her belt; as she turned, she unfastened the axe clasp and felt the weapon’s reassuring weight fall into her grip. She faced the platform and saw Mayuri standing at the far side of the altar, her translucent hand resting gently on Ulana’s forehead. “What do you intend to do?” the Paladin’s frustration was evident in her voice as she held her axe and shield at the ready.

     “ _I mean to take my daughter to Shilen. There, she will be free of this taint_ ,” Mayuri gestured toward the scarred symbols on the Summoner’s back as she lifted Ulana’s shoulder.

     “Taint? What taint?” DragonClaw asked as she walked closer to the altar, never taking her eyes from the Blade Dancer’s spirit, “And why can’t we help Ulana?” The ghostly Drow was silent as she pulled the Summoner’s body into her arms.

     Shadowhyn gasped in surprise when Ulana’s hand was gently pulled from her grasp; the Construct hanging in the air between the women winked out of existence, and the Bishop groaned as she shuddered under the backlash of interrupted magic. “ _Nnng_ -No, I… I can help…” the red-haired woman struggled to her hands and knees, and began crawling across the altar after the Blade Dancer’s spirit, “w-why… won’t you let… m-me help her?”

     Mayuri was silent as she walked around the altar. DragonClaw stepped to the middle of the bridge leading from the platform, blocking the spirit’s path. “ _I thank you and the Amandil for protecting my daughter thus far, but there is nothing more you can do,_ ” the Blade Dancer said softly as she cradled Ulana in her arms, “ _because of your efforts, my daughter will be able to rest in peace._ ”

     DragonClaw was silent as she slowly lowered her axe and shield. After a moment of thought, the Paladin stepped aside. Mayuri nodded, and continued her regal stride across the bridge. DragonClaw watched as the spirit walked away; the Guild Leader blinked in surprise when Shadowhyn stumbled past.

     “I-I can help her!” the Bishop called to the Blade Dancer’s spirit as she forced her shaking legs to move; blood still dripping from the arrow wound in her thigh, and from the burns on her right hand. “Wh-why won’t— _aah!_ ” the red-haired woman tripped and fell to her knees, shrieking as her weight fell on her injured hand. Bracing herself on her hands and knees, the injured woman screamed at Mayuri’s back, anger and desperation filling her voice, “ _Why won’t you let me help her!?”_

     Mayuri turned to face the Bishop, her face a mask of stone as she studied the human. As DragonClaw knelt to comfort the woman, Shadowhyn continued to try clawing her way past the Paladin. “Let me go, let me go!” the red-haired woman snarled, her wounds leaving bloodied streaks on the cold stone floor, and on the Guild Leader’s amethyst shaded armor.

     “Calm yourself Shadowhyn, stay calm!” DragonClaw tried to inject a commanding tone into her voice, but the sight of her friend’s frenzied despair tinged it with pity instead.

     “I-I can help her…” the injured woman whimpered, the strength rapidly draining from her limbs, leaving her too weak to continue struggling against the Paladin’s grip.

     “ _Peace, Fallaner. Were there anything you could do to help, you are in no shape to perform the magics necessary_ ,” the Blade Dancer’s tone was firm as she shifted Ulana’s body in her vaguely solid arms, “ _And should you succeed in preserving her life, it would only serve to destroy her in the end_.” The Dark Elf’s spirit looked down at her daughter’s pain-wracked face as a hint of tenderness crept into her voice, “ _Shilen, at least, can save her from corruption_.” The old Blade Dancer turned and resumed her stately stride toward the great silvery cloud swallowing the far end of the stone bridge. As she drew near, the cloud reacted to her approach, swelling and pulsing as the magics guiding it quickened, small tongues of lightning streaking across the roiling mass. The clouds swelled again, twisting, and revealed…

     Almost at once, the horrible realization struck the Paladin like a blow to the gut. Her mind reeled, her legs went limp; the mere presence of a Goddess was enough to drive DragonClaw to her knees, the sudden mental strain of trying to comprehend exactly what she perceived felt like an iron spike being driven into her skull. In the distance, she heard the Bishop gasp, “Such… a terrible beauty…”

      

***

      

     “You’ve… seen Shilen?” Shinoa’s tone of voice was questioning, unable to believe such a statement.

     DragonClaw nodded calmly, “I have.” She grew quiet for a moment before continuing, “I’ll never forget that feeling of… insignificance.”

      

***

      

     The Paladin raised her head to try and make sense of what stood before her; desperately she tried to identify parts, pieces of what she saw, hoping that would keep her sane. The massive... figure had an ever-changing number of arms, each hand holding a peculiar instrument, the origin and use of which would puzzle the Paladin for years. The incredibly long torso, serpentine in its motions, faded away into the dark that lurked beneath the altar-platform. And the face! DragonClaw gasped a shuddering breath, having to remind herself to breathe.

     After deciding to see what she could understand and just ignore what she could not, DragonClaw found it easier to look up without wanting to faint, easier to tell what was happening. The Paladin looked over to see Shadowhyn staring, as if transfixed, toward the Dark Elves and their Goddess. Her shoulders quivered with emotion as tears rolled down her soot-smudged face. Strangely enough, the Bishop didn’t seem to be struggling with the reality of seeing Shilen. _Perhaps her training as a mystic helps_ , DragonClaw thought grudgingly, almost regretting her path in life.

     Movement caught the Paladin’s eye, and she looked to see Mayuri kneel before the Underworld’s Mother, presenting Ulana to the Goddess. Shadowhyn groaned and clutched at her head, muttering indistinct words as she wavered unsteadily on her knees. DragonClaw put a hand around the Bishop’s upper arm, keeping the dazed woman upright.

     “What will happen, Mayuri?” the Paladin called out, wincing at how loud her voice sounded in the quiet. A small chill ran down her spine; it was not wise to offend a Goddess, however unintentionally.

     The old Blade Dancer replied calmly, glancing over her shoulder toward the human women, “ _The Mother must judge my daughter’s condition, Nim’ohtar_ ,” the Spirit looked upward, the expression on her face reflecting utter calm, “ _then She must act on Her judgment_.”

     Shadowhyn twitched at the words, “What does that mean?” she asked fearfully, her fingers sliding off DragonClaw’s armor as she tried to grab the Guild Leader’s arm, “What does she mean?!” Her frantic voice faltered as Shilen held Her arm out over the Summoner’s unconscious form.

     An intense pressure swelled in her head, and DragonClaw clapped her hands over her ears; from the corner of her eye the Paladin saw Shadowhyn do the same. _What was that?_ DragonClaw groaned, her ears ringing, _Was that..._

     “Her voice... s-so loud,” the Bishop moaned as she gasped for breath, answering the Paladin’s unspoken question.

     Mayuri smiled up at Shilen and nodded, “ _As you will it, Mother, so shall I give you my daughter. Please protect her from this evil._ ” Bowing, the Blade Dancer raised her arms, holding Ulana high above her head. Shilen stretched out Her hand, and grasped the Summoner’s body; as she was pulled into the air, flecks of an intense light began to shimmer around Ulana’s form as a strange fire began to burn around her body. Shivering in the grip of Shilen’s magic, the Dark Elf convulsed as another of the Goddess’ hands enclosed her, obscuring her from sight.

     DragonClaw blinked away purple blobs from her vision, and had a moment to stare in wonder as Ulana’s silhouette blazed brighter, the flames leaping wildly. Then the Summoner cried out in pain as her body was enveloped by the fire, her dim shape struggling against the Goddess’ hold; Shadowhyn echoed the Dark Elf with a shriek of her own, as she began to writhe on the worked stone of the bridge in agony.

     DragonClaw knelt to grip the Bishop’s shoulders, “Shadowhyn!” she called, “What’s wrong?” The red-haired woman continued to shriek in pain, kicking her legs and flailing her arms, as if to put out an unseen fire. The Paladin looked back to the Blade Dancer’s spirit, about to shout a question. Mayuri had turned, glancing over her shoulder with a puzzled look on her face. DragonClaw’s eyes moved to Shilen, and she paused, the words frozen in her throat.

     Ulana floated in the Goddess’ grip, and there in Shilen’s other hand… _Another Ulana? What’s…_ The first Ulana was pale, looking on the verge of death, her body wracked in pain; the other was ethereal, like slowly congealing smoke, a look of shock on her face. DragonClaw thought she saw delicate golden threads connecting the two copies of the Drow. Squinting, she could see them clearly; shining lines of magic wove around the two copies of the Phantom Summoner, with some threads leading back towards the human women, wrapping themselves around—

     “What’s happening?” the Paladin called, “It’s hurting Shadowhyn!”

     That incredible pressure swelled in the Guild Leader’s head once more, nearly driving her to all fours. Dimly, as the ringing in her ears faded, she heard Mayuri chant a spell. Looking up from where she crouched by the sobbing Bishop, DragonClaw saw the Blade Dancer hold up her hand as a strange shimmer caused the air to shift and jump within her grasp. A bar of light appeared in her palm, twisting and stretching to reveal a glittering dagger.

     Turning about, Mayuri hefted the blade easily before striking with a fluid motion. The threads that hung between the Phantom Summoner and the Bishop parted with little resistance, winking out of existence. The instant the threads were cut, Shadowhyn seized. DragonClaw felt a pang of fear as she glanced down at the Bishop—she lay on the stone floor, barely breathing, her eyes unfocused—before looking up again. The pain-wracked Ulana twitched once more, and hung limp; the other, ethereal Ulana stumbled as she was set down to stand on the cold stones, staring at her hands in confusion. Slowly she looked away from her semi-transparent fingers.

     “ _Mother?_ ” she asked, seeing the old Blade Dancer standing before her, “ _What… what’s going on?_ ” Shilen opened Her hand, and a muffled thud made the Dark Elves turn to look. The Summoner stared at her body lying on the floor, “ _…Mother?_ ”

     Mayuri placed a hand on Ulana’s shoulder, “ _Shilen has saved you from the corruption in your body. Come with us now_ ,” the old Blade Dancer’s voice was soft.

     “ _But… what has happened?_ ” Ulana turned to look at DragonClaw still crouching near the Bishop, “ _Is Shadaera…_ ”

     The Paladin looked down again, making sure the red-haired woman still breathed before looking up at the Summoner’s spirit, “She lives, Ulana… what—” A soft laugh made the Paladin pause, and a chill ran down DragonClaw’s spine as she turned to look down at Shadowhyn.

     The Bishop lay there on the floor, tears running from her eyes, laughing as her gaze jumped wildly around the room. DragonClaw met her gaze, and worry froze the words in her throat. Madness tinged the red-haired woman’s eyes, “ _Did you do it?_ ” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

     The Paladin shook her head before managing, “D-Do what?”

     Rolling onto her stomach, the Bishop slowly pushed herself up off the floor to her hands and knees, “So who did it?” she asked softly, drawing close to DragonClaw’s face, “I’d hate to have to kill you—”

     “Ulana!” the Paladin called, not taking her eyes from the red-haired woman’s face, “What’s going on?” DragonClaw started back, feeling the short wall of the bridge keep her from falling, as the Bishop lurched to her feet, slowly staggering toward the spirits.

     “S-Sister…” Shadowhyn whispered, her eyes locked on the body that lay crumpled at the feet of the Blade Dancer.

     Ulana stepped around her mother’s spirit, “ _Shadaera!_ ” she called, holding a hand outstretched before Mayuri snagged her wrist.

     “ _No, Daughter, it is time. We must leave._ ”

     The Phantom Summoner yanked her arm free, “ _My friend needs me! I will not abandon her like this!_ ”

     Mayuri shook her head, a great sadness written in her face, “ _Whatever magic the Amandil used has broken her. There is nothing you can do_.”

     DragonClaw stood, moving toward the Bishop, “We need to leave, Shadowhyn,” she said softly, reaching out to a hand on the red-haired woman’s shoulder, “We need to get you some help…” As she touched the Bishop, the woman wheeled about, her hands blurring toward the Paladin’s throat. Reflexes caused the Guild Leader to turn slightly, and Shadowhyn’s palms just barely struck the Paladin’s right shoulder, close to the woman’s unarmored neck. _That was a killing move_ , DragonClaw bent back as her arm fell limp, moving away from the smaller woman, _What’s gotten into her?!_ Falling back a stride, the Paladin pulled her shield up to cover her numb right arm. “Shadowhyn! Why are y—”

     “ _Who killed her!_ ” the Bishop snarled, making vague motions toward Ulana’s body, her stance unsteady as she struggled to stay on her feet.

     “No one killed her,” the Paladin said soothingly, “She just…”

     “ _Shilen has claimed her, Amandil_ ,” Mayuri said firmly, her voice smoldering, “ _Go... Now_.” Shadowhyn turned, her eyes sweeping across the Blade Dancer’s spirit—lingering for a moment on Ulana—before settling on the Goddess’ avatar. Reeling slightly at the sight, the woman glanced back toward Mayuri and Ulana. At the sight of the Phantom Summoner’s spirit, the Bishop began giggling, a horrible, joyless sound.

     “ _Sh… Shadaera?_ ” Ulana stepped forward, concern in her voice.

     “Y-You’re still here!” Shadowhyn laughed, “I can still help you!” Slowly, she turned back to the body lying on the ground, “I… I can Resurrect you, even th—” The thunderous pressure of Shilen’s voice filled the room, driving the human women to their knees. Shadowhyn screamed something unintelligible, forcing herself back to her feet.

     Mayuri stepped in front of the Bishop, the long silver robe she wore sliding, altering into a set of armor, her long dagger held at the ready, “ _Leave now, human._ ” Shadowhyn ignored the command, her eyes focused on the Goddess. DragonClaw tried to reach for the Bishop, her own calls going unheeded.

     “ _Y-You can’t take her!_ ” the Bishop shrieked, struggling to run toward Shilen, her hands flaring white with unfocused magic.

     Mayuri sighed as she stepped to the side. “ _No!_ ” Ulana cried “ ** _Stop!_** ”

     The long dagger swept up to plunge into the Bishop’s stomach, emerging from the red-haired woman’s back with a dark spray. Shadowhyn stumbled, regaining her footing as she tried to force her way past the old Dark Elf. Unable to advance, she turned toward the Drow, bringing her hands around; Mayuri’s left arm caught the Bishop’s wrists, blocking the woman’s attack, driving her glowing hands up into the air. Shadowhyn straightened her right arm, angling her elbow toward the Blade Dancer’s head while swinging her left arm down, aiming for the Dark Elf’s hand holding the dagger’s hilt. Mayuri brought her forearm across to meet the Bishop’s elbow, knocking it aside, pushing further to strike the Bishop in the temple.

     As Shadowhyn reeled back a step, Mayuri snared the red-haired woman’s throat with her free hand. “ _This is for your foolishness_ ,” the Blade Dancer whispered, “ _in attempting to touch Shilen in anger_.” Tightening her grip on the dagger’s hilt, the Dark Elf pulled upward savagely, drawing the summoned blade through the Bishop’s chest, up and out of her body. Shadowhyn staggered, crimson staining the floor as she slumped to her knees, the madness and the life in her eyes fading as she fell. The Bishop shuddered once more, and lay still.

      

***

      

     Long minutes passed in silence, save for the staccato drum-beat of the rain on the Inn’s tile roof. DragonClaw leaned forward, gently dabbing at the sweat beading on the Bishop’s forehead. She looked down at her hands before settling back in her chair, glancing sideways at the Elves that sat beside her. Rhianwen motioned toward the stoneware pitcher; the Paladin shook her head with a smile before looking to Shinoa. The Blade Dancer sat with her arms crossed, her face an unreadable mask. The Guild Leader opened her mouth to speak, but the young Dark Elf held up a hand, “Every time...” she said softly, “I think I’ve heard it all...” Shinoa chuckled as she knuckled her eyes, stifling a yawn. “What makes you say that she died?” the Blade Dancer asked as she glanced down at the battered human.

     DragonClaw nodded at the question, a grim set to her jaw, “I’ve seen enough fighting in my life to recognize how she fell. There’s no doubt in my mind,” The Paladin blinked back tears, “She was dead before she hit the floor.”

      

***

      

     The Paladin stared in shock as the Bishop lay still, viscera spilling from her rent frame, her lifeblood cooling on the worked stone floor. _Wh... What?_ Taking the first step was the hardest; her body felt as numb as her mind, and her legs threatened to pitch her forward onto her face. Soon, after an eternity, she was walking—no, running—to where the Bishop lay. Experience told her that it was not possible, but still she knelt beside her fallen friend, fumbling at the leather straps and ties that held her gauntlet on, reaching for Shadowhyn’s throat, hoping, praying to find a pulse. She counted the time by her own thundering heart-beat, but there was nothing.

     She looked up at Mayuri, tears clouding her vision, “Why?!” DragonClaw demanded, “She wasn’t herself!” Ulana stood next to her mother, her hands covering her mouth in horror.

     The old Blade Dancer shook her head, “ _It was commanded by Shilen._ ”

     Ulana turned on Mayuri, her ethereal face spotting scarlet with rage, “ _She didn’t have to die like that!_ ” Desperation filled her voice as she turned to Shilen, falling to her knees, “ _Please! Restore her! I... She tried so hard to help me…_ ” The Phantom Summoner’s voice faltered, her throat clogged with emotion, “ _Please... She doesn’t deserve this..._ ”

     Mayuri placed a hand on Ulana’s shoulder, “ _What does it matter, in the end? We mus—”_

     “ _What does it matter!?_ ” Ulana snapped, standing to her feet to draw dangerously close to her mother’s face, “ _What does it **matter**? She was a Sister to me, and sometimes a **mother** as well!_ ”

     The old Blade Dancer’s spirit grew quiet, her cheeks darkening as her voice turned to ice, “ _If the All-Mother wills it, so shall it be._ ” Turning on her heels, the older Dark Elf stalked back across the bridge to stand next to Shilen’s apparition, her arms crossed in anger, leaving Ulana to begin weeping quietly into her hands.

     Ever so slowly, one of the Goddess’ many arms reached for Ulana, laying a comforting hand along the sobbing Drow’s face. Rubbing at her eyes, Ulana looked up at Shilen, sniffling slightly as her tears slowed. Another hand of the Goddess stretched out toward the Bishop’s corpse, gently caressing the wound on the woman’s back. As DragonClaw watched, the wound… shriveled, folding in on itself, disappearing underneath a puckered scar. Shilen gestured, and the Bishop floated up off the ground to rotate, settling the body down onto its back. Once again, the savage wound in the human’s chest knitted itself under the Goddess’ attention, the bones melting back together as the muscle and flesh flowed, leaving a similar puckered scar running up her torso. Briefly, the Goddess touched Shadowhyn’s face, and the woman took a sudden, gasping breath. Shilen’s voice thundered softly through the cavern, and Ulana knelt next to her friends.

     “ _Shilen said that the scars will serve as a reminder of her mortality... but also that Shadaera will not remember much of what has happened,_ ” the Phantom Summoner said quietly as she ran her fingers through the Bishop’s matted hair, “ _She will take time to truly heal... She may not wake for several days._ ”

     DragonClaw nodded, still feeling numb, her thoughts sluggish, “Are you...”

     Ulana nodded, “ _I must go,_ ” she paused as tears began to fall from her eyes, she bent to place a kiss on the comatose woman’s forehead, “ _Tell her... I… She was..._ ”

     DragonClaw placed a hand on the Phantom Summoner’s wrist, “I will, Ulana... Farewell,” the Paladin coughed slightly into her fist, fighting her own emotions, “You will be remembered.”

     Ulana stood, pulling the Guild Leader to her feet, throwing her arms around the human’s neck, “ _Be safe_ ,” the Dark Elf whispered.

     DragonClaw turned to face Shilen, bowing deeply, “I... Thank you, for your gift,” the Paladin motioned toward the Bishop, who continued to draw shuddering breaths, “You did not have to revive her, and I thank you for it.”

     Shilen’s voice echoed through the cavern once more, and Mayuri stepped forward, “ _It is not without a price, Nim’ohtar. Shilen will require a service from the Amandil… but that is for the future._ ” Stiffly, the Blade Dancer bowed, “ _I thank you for watching over my daughter these past years._ ” Ulana slowly walked to stand beside her mother…

      

***

      

     “...and then they vanished,” DragonClaw paused for a moment in her recollection of the events of a decade ago. “I wasn’t sure what kind of condition Shadowhyn had been left in, so I hurried to find the two Scrolls of Escape that we had left.” The Paladin grimaced in distaste, “I had to check Ulana’s body for one of them… I also took any personal items that she had, in case scavengers reached her body before it could be recovered.”

     Shinoa looked up at that admission, “What kind of items? Are… my swords?”

     The Guild Leader shook her head, “No, I had Thainn forge those for you when you finished your training... Ulana’s swords and journal went to Shadowhyn, as well as that amulet that she found.” The Guild Leader scratched her head in thought, “I’m not sure what happened to them, but knowing her, Shadowhyn would have kept them safe to give to you.” DragonClaw shrugged, “Everything else went to Dhub, to do with as he saw fit.”

     Shinoa nodded, her eyes tightening at her brother’s memory, “He gave me her jewelry, and sold the rest of her possessions to pay for my training—” a yawn cracked the Blade Dancer’s jaw before she could stifle it.

     DragonClaw glanced at her fingers before running her hands through her hair, pausing to rub her thumbs vigorously across her cheekbones to keep her own exhaustion at bay. "Shadowhyn also contributed to the costs of your training," the Paladin stated, much to the young Drow's chagrin, "the later years of your training, anyway. Once she was aware of how much time had passed. She... well..." the woman paused again, several heartbeats passing as she brushed a lock of hair away from the unconscious Bishop's eyes.

     The Guild Leader continued, her voiced thick with emotion, "She spent almost a year in her quarters, unresponsive… catatonic. Then the next few re-learning how to walk and talk." Her words trailed off as she rubbed a tear from her eye, "Whatever spell she used to try and keep your sister alive? It broke her. And being struck down shattered what was left."

     Gently taking the Paladin's hand in her own, Rhianwen squeezed for a moment before turning to Shinoa, "We brought her here, to be somewhere familiar, yet... away from any reminders of Ulana. I would have preferred she stay in the Guild Hall, where we could be close by, but it was not helping her recover." The Elf blinked away tears of her own as she remembered, "We would find her in Ulana's room, laying on her bed or on her floor, just… sobbing. They had too many memories there."

     DragonClaw nodded, "In time, she was something close to her old self. Living here is well within the means of her Guild stipend, and she told me to put the extra aside," the Paladin looked the Blade Dancer in the eyes, "for you."

     Shinoa blanched, " _What?!_ No, sh-she can't, she, tell me I've not been—” The Spellsinger and the Paladin couldn't help but laugh at the Dark Elf's stuttering dismay. "DeeCee, why would you not tell me?" the young Drow lamented.

     The woman raised her hands, motioning gently, "Now, now, don't worry. What she _tells_ me to do and what I _decide_ to do aren’t always the same." DragonClaw chuckled, "Several of us, myself, Rhianwen, Nifii, Pendragon to name a few, we set aside a portion of our pay for Shadaera's care." The woman leaned forward to place a hand on Shinoa's shoulder, "We look after our own."

     Rhianwen nodded, a small smile played across her face, "We've kept Shadaera and Ulana in the books, their pay going into a special account that we use for things in their name, charitable acts that we think they would agree on: aid for the village here, education for those that desire it, and yes, a small part has gone to you." Shinoa looked as though she would interrupt, but the Spellsinger waved off her concerns, "Nothing overlarge, just supplies & materials, a warm winter cloak, things like that."

     The Dark Elf frowned despite their reassurances, rubbing the heels of her hands on her temples as she fought back another yawn. "It's just... it's too much," she said softly, leaning against the side of the bed, resting her head next to the red-haired woman's hand. Her eyes began to drift close as she muttered, "She... does too much..."

     Rhianwen laughed, “Come now, little one, you need some rest.” The Spellsinger happily ignored the young Dark Elf’s protests as she dragged Shinoa toward the door.

     “Shinoa,” the Paladin called before the two Elves left the room, “I’ll let you know when the Elders get here. Rest for now.”

     Rhianwen focused a level gaze onto the Guild Leader, “Yes, we all must rest.”

     DragonClaw turned back to the bed, settling back into her chair as she muttered, “If we could all be so lucky.” The Spellsinger poked her head back through the door, looking first at the Bishop, then at the Paladin. Nodding to herself, she raised her hand and gestured toward the Guild Leader, “ _Sleep_ ,” she whispered as her spell took hold.

      

*****


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

     DragonClaw woke with a start. As she rubbed at her bleary eyes, she noticed the faint light shining in through the guestroom casements. She stumbled to her feet, unsteadily making her way to the nearest gilded window. Her fingers fumbled the latch holding the polished wood, and she groggily cursed her clumsiness. Finally forcing the window open, the Paladin gazed out over the sleepy human village. The faint amount of light on the horizon coupled with the dimly glowing moon meant that she had been asleep for several hours. It took her a few more minutes of quiet contemplation to realize the storm had passed in the night. The last thing she could remember was the Spellsinger... _What had she said?_ After a moment, her eyes narrowed as she clenched her fist, growling, “Rhianwen!”

     _Shadowhyn!_ The Paladin turned, the memory of the previous night sending adrenaline hammering through her veins. Her eyes fell on the bed and its occupant; the woman laid still, a serenity suggested in her pose, hands folded peacefully across her stomach. She had been dressed in a simple white gown, and DragonClaw’s breath caught in her throat before she saw the Bishop take a steady, even breath. She walked to the bed, and knelt to examine the red-haired woman’s wounds. Neatly tied bandages covered the Bishop’s upper left arm  & shoulder, and the white strips of linen had very few spots of red. _They’ve not started bleeding again._ The knowledge and care behind the bandaging, as well as the missing brace on the Bishop’s arm could mean only one thing...

     The Great Hall of the Inn bustled with life and activity, the Truthbearer siblings mingling with the gathered Guild Members; Dadrabian stopping at each table, greeting the old friends seated there, while Daria glided about setting mugs in front of patrons, taking time to smile and chat as she refilled beverages.

     Rhianwen sat in a plush leather armchair close to the Hall’s smaller fireplace, warming herself before the crackling flames, gently swirling a goblet of port held in her fingertips. She was flanked by a pair of female Shillien Elders resting in similar chairs, both resplendent in their white and scarlet traced robes as they nursed delicate porcelain mugs of Daria’s tea. The three Elves gossiped eagerly, laughing as they talked about recent events.

     Evilchrist ran her slender fingers through her hair, brushing the long, dark violet locks back over an ear. “Nifii,” she asked as she paused to rub her forehead, “how do you feel?”

     The other Elder mumbled a reply into her cup of tea, before hastily setting it down on the small table at her side. “Oh Evi, I’m fine,” the silver-haired Drow replied, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, “Just a lingering head-ache is all.”

     Evil nodded, sighing heavily, “The same with me. I feel as if I could—”

     “—sleep for a week.” Nifii interrupted, wincing as she finished the other Elder’s sentence.

     Rhianwen grinned as she took a sip of her wine, “How long does that take to wear off?”

     Nifii groaned, leaning back in her armchair to run her hands through her pale hair, “It all depends on various things—”

     “—but alcohol helps considerably,” Evil interjected, grimacing slightly before sharing another laugh with Nifii.

     “Alcohol, eh?” Rhianwen had a gleam in her eye that worried the Dark Elves.

     Footsteps caught the Elves’ attention, and the trio turned to see DragonClaw approaching the Spellsinger’s armchair like a thunderhead, her face rigid with fury. “Rhianwen!” the Paladin snapped, “How could y—”

     “DeeCee!” the Elf smiled, the gleam never leaving her eye, “Did you sleep well?”

     Her innocent tone made DragonClaw quiver with anger, “I was worried sick, and—”

     “No,” Rhianwen set her goblet on a nearby table, “You were getting some needed sleep, meanwhile _not_ making yourself sick.” A sly grin crept across her face, “Besides, these two tried to wake you up before they started.”

     Evilchrist nodded as she folded her arms across her chest, “I shook you a few times—”

     “—and yelled at you for good measure,” Nifii interrupted, rolling her eyes after she began speaking, “but it was like—”

     “—you were dead to the world,” Evil said, spreading her hands in innocence.

     “You didn’t miss much,” Nifii muttered as she rubbed the heels of her palms under her eyes, “just a lot—”

     “—of spells cast with little visible results,” Evil finished the silver-haired Drow’s thought, sighing softly to herself.

     DragonClaw eyed the two Dark Elves curiously, one eyebrow raised, “You two... What aren’t you telling me? Don’t think I don’t know why you’re talking like that.”

     The Shillien Elders shot silent glances to each other before muttering a phrase in their native tongue in unison; their faces turned crimson before they began to laugh at their embarrassment. Rhianwen cocked an eyebrow at the two Drow before answering the Paladin, “They did everything they could for Shadowhyn.”

     Nifii spoke up, “Even after Purifying her wounds, there were—”

     “—some that resisted our Healing... Even our com—” Evil put in before the other Elder interrupted,

     “—combined spells couldn’t affect them, after we—”

     “—held the Constructs in place all night, no less,” Evil concluded with a yawn.

     “You know we get like this,” Nifii said hurriedly, “after unified Healing… It’s hard keeping a sense of self—”

     “—while concentrating on the same spell,” Evil stuck her tongue out at the Paladin, “Now we’re just waiting for—”

     “—the Tavern to open so we can get—” Nifii paused to yawn.

     Evil jumped in, “—really, really drunk; the ale here is so weak!”

     Nifii nodded in agreement, “Dadrabian doesn’t even stock Dark Elven Wine!”

     DragonClaw had to laugh, “That’s because it’s poisonous to humans!” The Paladin groaned heavily as she ran her hands through her reddish-blonde hair; she vigorously rubbed at her face before—eventually—smiling at the Elf, “Thank you, Rhianwen. I would not have slept.” She paused to look around, looking at the faces of the gathered Guild Members, “Oh, I didn’t wake Shinoa like I said I would... She’ll be a firebrand this morning.”

     A large hand clapped the Paladin on the shoulder, and she turned to see Dadrabian offering a tray of large drinks to the Dark Elves. “A fair morning to you, Dragon,” the Inn Keeper said, his voice cheerful despite the dark circles under his eyes.

     “A good morning to you, Dadrabian,” the Guild Leader replied, “I hope these Elves haven’t been a bother.”

     The old Knight laughed, “Oh no, not at all! They’ve been doing me a favor, actually,” he winked at the gray-skinned beauties, and they giggled, whispering to each other, clutching their fresh tankards tightly, “They’re helping me get rid of all this dwarven ale I had in storage.” He chuckled, turning to face DragonClaw, “The Sorcerer... Slifer? He was looking for you.”

     The Guild Leader nodded, “Thank you. Do you happen to know why?”

     Dadrabian shrugged as he placed the Drow’s empty glasses on his tray, “Something he found in Shadaera’s room, I think.”

     A thunderous crash echoed from the upstairs hallway, and every head in the Great Hall turned to see Shinoa stalking down the staircase. Dadrabian glanced at DragonClaw and whispered, “ _This situation calls for a tactical retreat_ ,” before following his own advice, moving to a nearby table to collect dishes.

     The Paladin looked at Rhianwen and sighed, “Her too?” Glancing about, DragonClaw said, “You handle this, Rhianwen. I need to find Slifer.”

     Daria walked by, a tray piled high with plates and mugs held high in the air, and DragonClaw ducked behind the Inn’s Mistress, keeping the steaming plates of food between her and the Blade Dancer. _If Dadrabian was sent to find me, Slifer must still be busy studying what he found._ Dreadful thoughts were bubbling up in her mind, leaving her anxious about what the Sorcerer had discovered. The Paladin walked along the Great Hall, glancing about to see where the mage had secreted himself. She found him in a darkened corner, muttering divinations over a box he had placed on the table before him, a curious expression on his face. Sliding into the seat across the table from the man, DragonClaw leaned forward, “So, what’s the—”

     “I see he gave you my message,” the Sorcerer interrupted, “Forgive my rudeness, it is hard to concentrate on scrying spells while conversing... I’ll tell you this, though... I have no idea what I have found.” Apparently satisfied with his magical study, Slifer looked up, folding his hands on the table. “I went with Droxanna to retrieve fresh clothing for Shadowhyn. It was her idea, mind you,” the Sorcerer sounded almost chagrinned to admit the fact, “I spent a good deal of time disarming the various Wards she had placed around her quarters.” The man shook his head, “I don’t know what made her that paranoid... but I believe this has something to do with it.” Gently, the Sorcerer pushed the box toward the Paladin.

     Gingerly, DragonClaw opened the box, lifting the plainly carved wooden lid, setting it down on the table at her elbow. She peered into the box. “There’s nothing in here.” Slifer held his hand over the wooden box and snapped his fingers; a small gout of flame burst into being in the palm of his hand. In the flickering light, DragonClaw could see a glittering black... shape nestled within. A faint green light, a dancing reflection of the Sorcerer’s flame, glimmered from within the disk-like shape; the finely wrought black-as-night metal seemed to be crafted in overlapping layers. Try as she might to examine its details, the amulet soaked up the light; only the glinting highlights from the flame made its shapes seen.

     Recognition made her frown, “This is the amulet Ulana found in the treasure room.”

     Slifer closed his hand around the flame, “Is it, now?” Thoughtfully, the Sorcerer rubbed a finger alongside his nose, “That is curious. I’ll keep stu—”

     “No need,” DragonClaw said as she lowered the lid back in its place, “Any strange magical residues that you feel are from the circumstances involving Ulana...” The Paladin paused as she traced the lid’s edge with a fingertip, “Thank you for finding this. I’m sure Shadowhyn will appreciate having it near.”

     Clearly unconvinced, the mage spread his hands, “If you say so, Dragon. I have sensed other strange magics about this morning.” Slifer looked worried, “If I discover anything...”

     DragonClaw nodded, “I’ll be here.”

     The Paladin wound her way through the tables, angling for the staircase. She looked over to the alcove where the Elves had been sitting and saw Shinoa engaged in a rather energetic conversation with the Spellsinger. Shaking her head, _Poor Rhianwen_ , DragonClaw motioned to Nifii, pointing toward the stairs. She waited for the Elder in front of the Bishop’s door; muffled footsteps came from the staircase as well as whispers and giggles. _Evil too? Good._ Both Dark Elves appeared at the top of the stairs, struggling to keep from stepping on their robes while holding their large tankards steady. Nifii bumped Evil, and a furious spate of whispers erupted from the two, before breaking into quickly stilled laughter. Catching the Paladin’s eye, the Drow sheepishly sidled over.

     “Yes?” Evil asked as Nifii snickered into the palm of her hand.

     “I want you to see how Shadowhyn is doing,” the Guild Leader said. She looked down at their drinks, “How many is that?”

     “Five… no, _Six!_ ” Nifii exclaimed cheerfully. DragonClaw sighed as she turned the latch on the door, pushing it open for the Elders. Swiftly, the Dark Elves set their tankards down and began examining the Bishop; Nifii checking her pulse, eyes, and wounds as Evilchrist held a Construct over the red-haired woman’s chest, examining her internal condition. After a long moment, the priestesses resettled the blankets and bandages, returning to the Paladin’s side.

     “I’ve seen her worse off,” Nifii said softly.

     “Physically, anyway,” Evil replied.

     Nifii nodded, “Yes, but mentally? It’s almost as bad as… last time.”

      DragonClaw frowned, “So there’s no telling when she’ll wake up?” Both Elders shook their heads. Deep in thought, the Guild Leader tossed the wooden box from hand to hand, “Thank you both for coming with Sado,” DragonClaw said.

     Silently, the Dark Elves nodded as they picked up their drinks and headed for the doorway. Nifii paused to place her hand on the Paladin’s shoulder, “Shadowhyn has to _want_ to live... But we can sense no such desire from her.” DragonClaw patted the Drow’s hand with her own, and Nifii stepped silently from the room.

     _No use staying in here, waiting_ , the Paladin thought as she opened the wooden box, _Too many loose ends to tie up; I wonder if I can find that boy today._ Gently, DragonClaw pulled the black amulet from its case, unfurling its matching black chain, reaching to place the wooden box on the nightstand. Grasping the ends of the chain in each hand, DragonClaw set the amulet down on the Bishop’s chest, lifting her head slightly to run the chain around her neck before fastening it.

     The Paladin brushed the red-haired woman’s cheek, “Wake up soon, Shadaera,” DragonClaw’s eyes glistened with tears she hadn’t time to shed, “We’re all worried about you.” Deep down, she knew it was foolish, but she still waited to see if the Bishop would respond to her voice. After a long moment, she turned away as some of the tears threatened to run down her face.  “Oh, blast,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her, thumbing the moisture from her eyes, “Jackson still has my shield...” Raised voices sounded from the Hall; curious, the Paladin headed for the staircase.

     

*******

      

     As Rhianwen watched DragonClaw walk away, she frowned, chewing her lip as she struggled with her thoughts. “Was I wrong?” she asked suddenly, surprising the two Dark Elves. When she saw their confusion, the Spellsinger nodded at the Paladin’s back, “Was I wrong in forcing her to sleep?”

     Evilchrist took a drink from her freshly filled tankard as Nifii answered, “No, she admitted as much that you were right.”

     Evil sighed happily, licking the froth from her lips, “If nothing else,” she said, “Remember that you did what you thought was right.”

     Unhappily, Rhianwen nodded. It still didn’t _feel_ right, after the fact.

     Furious footsteps signaled the Blade Dancer’s approach. Smoothly, the Spellsinger turned to face the young Dark Elf, hoping to dull her younger Sister’s temper, “Why, good morning Shi—”

     “How _dare_ you!” Shinoa raged, her face flushed in fury, her fingers clenched tightly into fists held at her sides, “ _How dare you!_ I am _not_ a child!” Ever so quietly, Evilchrist and Nifii slid farther into the shadows cast by the fireplace. Rhianwen shot the Elders a concerned glance; volumes were told in that look. Shinoa shook her fists above her head, before grabbing fistfuls of her silver hair, “Why, Rhianwen! I wanted to be there for Shadowhyn, and—”

     “Now, whatever for?” the Spellsinger drawled. At times, speaking Common slowly could be... advantageous. “What would you have done in there?”

     Shinoa frowned, glaring at the Elf, “I... I don’t know, something! Something other than _sleeping_ and not being of any help at all!”

     “Ah, but you _were_ helping, little one,” Rhianwen smiled, “You were recuperating from whatever happened in the Ruins...” The Spellsinger _tsked_ lightly, “You still haven’t told me what happened in there.”

     The Blade Dancer grimaced, groaning loudly as she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, “ _Why?_ Why can’t I stay mad at you!”

     Rhianwen grinned widely, “Because I’m so loveable, that’s why.”

     The Dark Elf sighed, “I _was_ serious, Sister. I wanted to be there...”

     Gently the Elf placed a hand on the Drow’s shoulder, “Shadowhyn would have wanted you to rest.”

     Shinoa’s eyes snapped up to meet the Spellsingers’, “Is she alive?”

     “What?” Rhianwen asked, startled by the sudden question.

     “You spoke of her as if she were dead,” Shinoa looked to the Dark Elven priestesses sitting nearby, “What happened last night?!”

     Evil held out a reassuring hand, “First off, she is still alive.”

     Nifii nodded, rubbing at her forehead as she talked, “We were able to heal most of her wounds.”

     “Some resisted our Healing,” Evil made a noise of disgust, “but she is in no—”

     “—immediate danger,” Nifii concluded.

     Shinoa looked unsatisfied, “What would make her wounds _not_ heal?”

     Both Elders shrugged, “I have no idea,” Nifii said softly.

     “So,” Evilchrist said, settling back down into her leather armchair, “what happened?”

     “Yes, little one,” Rhianwen said as she followed suit, sitting down, reaching for her goblet of wine, “where have you been for the last two days?”

     Shinoa snorted, “You won’t believe me when I... Well... Maybe you will.” The Blade Dancer sat down and began to tell her story to the three Elves, beginning with Joan’s rescue from the Werewolves.

     “Ah, I _did_ hear tell of that,” Rhianwen interrupted, speaking thoughtfully as she ran a finger along the tip of her ear, “Blacksmith Allman came by the Tavern last night asking for you and Shadowhyn. He dropped off a gift for each of you for saving his only daughter.” The Spellsinger nodded as she crossed her arms, “You are in need of it, now, since your armor has been—”

     Shinoa groaned, cursing softly to herself, “My _armor_... I’d forgotten...” Several tears fell as she struggled to speak, “My armor... was left to me... it was my mother’s...” She glanced around quickly, catching sight of Thainn at a long table with the other Guild Members, “Maybe Thainn can repair—”

     Rhianwen shook her head, “I’m sorry Shinoa. He said there’s nothing he could do.”

     The Blade Dancer shook her head, “My mother’s swords were lost with Ulana, and now I’ve destroyed her armor?” The young Dark Elf ran her hands through her hair, her expression one of defeat, “Just as well... I could never live up to my mother’s expectations. I couldn’t even protect Shadowhyn in the Library.”

     Nifii laughed softly, “Don’t worry overmuch about that, Shinoa. There are just some things that...”

     “Are beyond your control,” Evil finished, “You still haven’t told that part of your story.”

     Shinoa nodded, “Sorry. Well, after that...”

     “We have to go,” Nifii interrupted suddenly, disrupting Shinoa’s energetic recount of the events at the farmhouse, “DragonClaw needs Evil and I.”

     Rhianwen nodded, “We’ll talk later, Nifii, Evil.”

     Shinoa turned to watch the Elders make their way over to the staircase and saw the Paladin slowly mount the steps, playing with a small wooden box. “How is she taking things?” the young Dark Elf asked.

     “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” Rhianwen smiled, “She was a bit angry with me this morning.”

     Shinoa turned back to give a shrewd look at the Elf, “Did you... Of course, you did.”

     Rhianwen nodded, “I did. You both needed sleep,” the golden-haired Spellsinger sighed, letting her own exhaustion show for a moment, “There was nothing we could do, aside from bringing Nifii and Evil.” The Blade Dancer frowned as the Spellsinger cleared her throat, “Do go on, what happened at Shadowhyn’s old home?” The young Dark Elf continued her tale before shouts from the long tables interrupted her.

     

*******

      

     The Inn was a mid-sized building, easily one of the largest in the Village. It stood two and a half stories high, with strongly built walls of oak and cedar, the corners of the building capped by worked stone and brick. Two chimneys jutted into the air, one greater than the other, matching the fireplaces that stood on either side of the Great Hall; several smaller chimneys sprouted from the tile roof, one for the small fireplace in the larger of the second-floor suites. The floor and interior walls were crafted from panels cut of dark woods; polished to a shine, they seemed almost as bright as the mirrored torch-stands. Placed between the tall, narrow windows cut in the sides of the Hall, the gilded stands filled the nearby spaces with a soft golden light, accentuating the bright light from the chandeliers overhead. The half-dozen chandeliers hung from the high wooden-beamed ceiling in pairs, spaced evenly along the length of the Hall. Six long tables filled the center of the Hall, running end-to-end in a double row; a myriad of smaller tables littered the empty spaces around the edges of the room.

     The Great Hall of the Inn bustled with life and activity, the Truthbearer siblings mingling with the gathered Guild Members; Dadrabian stopped at each table, greeting the old friends seated there, while Daria glided about setting mugs in front of patrons, taking time to smile and chat as she refilled beverages. Several villagers, regulars of the Inn, sat at the small round tables around the Hall, enjoying their breakfast; the Guild Members crowded the long tables close to the staircase. Mauldis and Phoebus Apollo called insults back and forth across the breakfast table as they passed plates of food, their well humored jibes bringing a smile to those seated with them. A few laughed, usually only Droxanna and Lord Viper. Orcish humor was tricky to understand, at best.

     Keos sat with Thainn at another table nearby, sharing a pitcher of spiced caffe’ as they double-checked the numbers on the Guild’s ledger. Regardless of the crisis at hand, there were supplies and services to be purchased, transactions to be made. The Warsmith leaned his head on his fist as he reached for the pitcher, pouring himself a fresh cup, “Aft’r all th’ GateKeeper fees tha’ we had ta’ pay ou’ las’ night...” Thainn muttered into his mug.

     Keos nodded thoughtfully as he ran a finger down the pages, swiftly calculating in his head, “It will be a little tight until we get some jobs lined up,” the Swordsinger agreed. Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the two turned to see DragonClaw coming down to the Hall, “Ah, perhaps we can ask...” Keos’ words trailed off as he saw the look on her face.

     “Och, we’ll ask th’ lass later,” Thainn said as he turned back to his drink.

     Keos nodded, a small grin on his face, “I think Rhianwen has been up to her usual tricks.”

     Thainn chuckled loudly as he pulled a pipe from the pouch at his belt, tapping the bowl against his heel to knock the old ashes loose, “She’ll git ‘erself inta’ trouble one o’ these days.”

     Harsh words began to sound from the alcove where the Paladin gone, before quickly dying down. The talk at the breakfast tables slowed for a moment before picking up again. Sado leaned back in his chair, tilting back on its legs as he stretched. Droxanna reached over, playfully tapping the Hawkeye in the stomach with her knuckles; he jerked forward with a cough, laughing with the others at the prank. “What time did you get in last night?” Lord Viper asked the human as he passed a plate of meat across the table.

     “Oh, it took me several hours to find them,” the human said with a huff, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Nifii and Evilchrist, who were taking fresh drinks from the Inn Keeper, “They were holed up in Aden for some reason. I found Pendragon on my way through Giran; he should be here later... I couldn’t find anyone else.”

     Phoebus Apollo set his mug down, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, “You did good finding both of the Elves. That was most important.”

     The Hawkeye raised his mug, “Here’s hopin’ they got here soon enough.” The other Guild Members raised their own drinks in silence.

     Droxanna leaned forward, her face serious, “Has anything been said about her condition?”

     The others shook their heads, “No news yet,” Mauldis grunted sourly.

     “Seeing as how they’re drinking,” Lord Viper glanced over his shoulder, “she can’t be dying.”

     Keos leaned over, “I’ve heard about that; if they’re drinking this much this early, then—”

     A thunderous crash echoed down the upper hallway, and every head in the Great Hall turned to see Shinoa appear at the top of the staircase. As the Blade Dancer stalked down the flight of stairs, the Guild Members turned back to their breakfast, holding a cautious silence. Sado held his hands in a questioning manner; all the others made motions of puzzlement.

     Quite loudly, Thainn cleared his throat, “Ay’ laddie, what time did ye say Pendrag’n woul’ git ‘ere?”

     Sado looked at the Warsmith, his expression blank, until he realized, “Oh, yes... uh, I believe he’ll be here by first light.”

     Heated voices sprang up from the alcove, and the Guild Members tried to ignore them. They spent several minutes in silence, concentrating on their meals. DragonClaw walked past the tables, lost in thought, bouncing a small wooden box in her hands as Dadrabian approached and began stacking dirty dishes and mugs onto the wide tray that he carried, “Mornin’ again,” he grinned, nodding to his old comrades. Gingerly he set the over-burdened tray down onto the table, bracing his hands on either side of it as he leaned forward to conspire. “I hear tell,” the Inn Keeper said quietly, “there are strange things afoot this morning.”

     He nodded his head toward a far table, indicating a pair of local dock workers staring into their drinks, “They say the wildlife is acting... bizarre... That there aren’t any keltirs or wolves roaming the fields... that even the orcs are only seen in packs of a dozen or more.”

     Sado frowned, “Those orcs are aggressive… What’s frightening them so much?”

     The great wooden doors of the Inn slowly creaked open, the man pushing at the wrought iron handle hidden in the early morning sun, his gleaming armor hiding his face. “Are you sure this is it?” the man’s deep voice carried to the table where the Guild Members had begun to turn toward the door. A child peered into the open doorway before looking up at the human and nodding. “Here, then,” the armored man said, reaching into the pouch at his belt for a fat golden coin to drop into the boy’s hand. “Thanks, lad,” the man chuckled as he tousled the surprised youth’s hair.

     Pausing to grab the long-shafted axe that he had buried pommel-down in the dirt at his side, the man stepped into the Inn’s antechamber, stopping briefly to stamp his feet, knocking the dirt and dust free from his heavy plated boots. Even clad in the heavy amethyst and gold trimmed armor, the man walked with a quiet, deadly grace. Of an average height, his features were strong, his hair a dark brown, long enough to brush the plate steel at the base of his neck. A day’s growth of beard hid most of the scars crossing parts of his neck and face, which hinted at similar scars hidden beneath his well-used armor.

     “I was told to meet here,” the man said, grinning as he walked up to the Guildsmen’s tables. Holding his great axe over his shoulder with one gauntleted fist, he grasped Dadrabian’s hand in greeting, “Inn Keeper,” he laughed, “It’s good to see you, Dadrabian.”

     The old Knight laughed as he clapped the Warlord on the shoulder, “Pendragon, it’s good to see you too!” Mauldis and Sado shouted greetings as they raised their drinks, while the other Guild Members stood to clap the man on the back and shoulders, badgering him with questions and comments.

     Thainn laughed at the commotion, calmly puffing great clouds of heavy smoke from his pipe, “Ach, laddie, ye look good fer’ a fight, tha’ ye do.”

     Pendragon nodded, a grim expression creeping onto his face for a moment, “Sado told me there’d been some trouble—”

     “Pen!” Evilchrist called as she clambered down the staircase, Nifii close behind. Pausing long enough to drop their empty tankards on a nearby table, the Dark Elves threw their arms around the Warlords neck. With a laugh, Pendragon dropped his pole axe on the floor to wrap his arms around the Elders, lifting their feet from the floor as he spun around, returning their hug.

     “Oh, it’s good to see you both!” he grinned, setting them back on the floor, “You’ve been staying out of trouble, eh?”

     Both Nifii and Evil crossed their arms in a pout, donning sullen expressions, “Yes,” they said in unison, “We—”

     “They’ve been an immense help,” Rhianwen said, walking over to the gathering with Shinoa close behind.

     Pendragon laughed softly as the two Elves wrapped their arms around his chest, “Ladies, ladies,” he said as he placed his arms around their shoulders, squeezing gently, “At least let me take my armor off so I can enjoy these hugs more.” He winked at Rhianwen who laughed, not-so-gently patting the man on the cheek as the other Guild Members roared with laughter.

     Shinoa grinned at the Spellsinger before looking up at the Warlord, “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”

     He nodded, mussing the Blade Dancer’s hair until she slapped his hand away, “It’s the least I could do for Shadowhyn... Where is she, by the way?”

     “She’s still sleeping,” DragonClaw called as she walked down the stairs, “But you can go up and see her if you wish,” the Paladin said as she shook the Warlord’s hand. “It’s been a long time,” she said softly.

     “Forgive my absence,” he said, “I had a family issue come up.” The Guild Members began to take their seats at the long tables as Dadrabian returned with a tray full of meats and fruit. “It’s good to see everyone here,” the Warlord said, “but why the urgency? I thought this was just a visit...”

     “It started as just a trip to see Shadowhyn,” DragonClaw said as she reached for a slice of smoked beef, “I’d received a letter from her asking about Shinoa, and if Rhianwen could send her some copies of Elven history—”

     Rhianwen gasped, and all eyes turned to the Spellsinger. “I forgot those books,” she groaned, sending ripples of laughter around the tables.

     “I brought them for you,” Keos replied, causing another peal of laughter to circle the tables.

     DragonClaw swallowed the last bite of the beef, wiping her fingers on a nearby cloth as she continued, “As it seemed that Shadow had some things to talk to Shinoa about, I decided it was time to have everyone come here for a visit, if nothing else, to cheer her up. Maybe help her to stop mourning and blaming herself for what happened to Ulana.”

     Shinoa shook her head, “She hasn’t, yet.”

     The Paladin shot a glance at the Blade Dancer, “So, they go out for ‘ _a walk_ ’, and disappear for two days.”

     The young Dark Elf blushed slightly as the Guild Members gathered around began to call out questions, “Now, now, I’ll tell you all what happened—”

     “We know part of it already, child,” Rhianwen said after taking a sip of her wine, “the trader’s children and the dwarf girl told us how you saved them.”

     “But why was Sado sprinting through Giran last night?” Pendragon asked as he unbuckled his breastplate and tasset, laying the heavy plates of tempered steel on the table.

     “Shadowhyn was… hurt,” Shinoa began.

     DragonClaw interrupted, “She was badly wounded by something in the Elven Ruins,” the Paladin motioned toward the two giggling Elders, “so I sent Sado out to look for them, and for any other Guild Members he could find.”

     The Warlord nodded, contemplating what he’d been told, “So, Shadowhyn’s alright? I mean, she’s not dying or anything?”

     “She… is not dying,” Nifii said quietly, brushing her long silver hair over her right ear, “We did what we could—”

     “But the rest is up to her,” Evil stated, looking down at her hands, “She kept repeating ‘I found him’ and ‘I did it, mama’ when she was delirious…”

     “She fought a Demon in the Library,” Shinoa said softly, “H-He said he’d killed her parents.” Silence hung over the tables for a moment as those gathered stopped to stare at the Blade Dancer. “She seemed on the brink of madness… and…” her voice faltered, as she struggled to speak, “I… I heard Ulana’s voice.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered, “She told me to ‘help Shadaera’, and to ‘stop her from doing that which she will regret’… But I couldn’t keep her from getting hurt so badly.”

     Rhianwen reached over to pull the young Dark Elf close, cradling her head on her chest, “It’s alright little one, she will be fine.”

     Pendragon nodded, “If there’s one flaw Shadowhyn had, it was how stubborn she could be,” he laughed, “I could wager that she’ll be up and about in no time.”

     The wooden doors at the far end of the Great Hall creaked as the latch was worked from the outside; slowly the left door swung inward, and two shapes hurried inside, partially obscured by the bright morning sun. The larger pushed the door closed, and as they timidly stepped into the Hall, DragonClaw could see that it was Lydia and Joan. Daria hurried over to the two girls, bowing slightly as she talked with them. After a moment, the Inn’s Mistress took the girls, gently guiding them to the long tables, a reassuring hand resting on their shoulders.

     As she walked up to the Paladin, the girls grew visibly nervous at the gathered Guild Members, “They wanted to speak with you, DragonClaw,” Daria said softly, pushing the dwarf and human girl forward.

     “G-good morn-ning,” Lydia said hesitantly, beads of sweat beginning to collect on her forehead. Joan smiled at Shinoa and waved, grinning widely when the Blade Dancer returned the gesture. “H-have…” Lydia faltered, pausing to brush her long brown hair back over her shoulders, “have y-you—”

     “It’s alright Lydia,” the Paladin said, “What can I do for you?”

     “H-have you s-seen Lysander?” the girl asked hurriedly, “He didn’t come home after you followed him out of the store yesterday, d-did you see where he went?” Her eyes shone with tears, “I’m worried about that idiot, he’s never done this before.”

     Gently, the Paladin placed a hand on the trembling girl’s shoulder, “I’m afraid not, we saw him… run from the church and go out the west gate,” DragonClaw said, pausing as she decided not to mention his burns, “I hope to find him today.” The girl threw her arms around the Paladin’s neck, sobbing her thanks.

     The wooden doors swung open again, with speed, the inner handle ringing loudly as it bounced off the stone wall of the antechamber. Dadrabian and the Guild Members turned to see the poorly dressed man leaning against the wall to catch his breath before stumbling up to the Inn Keeper. “Da-dadrabian,” he wheezed, out of breath from running, “There’s—”

     “DragonClaw,” Slifer called, standing up from his seat at a nearby table, various Constructs flickering and spinning in the air around him, “We have trouble.”

      

*****


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

     The early morning sunlight filtered in through the stained-glass casements, sending brilliant colors dancing around the guest bedroom. The Bishop’s eyes opened, blinking once, before she turned her head to stare out the window, a look of horror on her face. “H-He’s here.” She struggled to pull the thick woolen blankets from around her body, groaning at the pain lancing through her left arm, “Have t-to… warn— _ah!_ ” she gasped as she fell onto the cold wood paneled floor, the black amulet weighing heavily around her neck. “Stop— _hng_ ” she muttered to herself as she crawled unsteadily to the door, her long white gown catching at her knees, “s-stop him.” She groped at the door, fingers fumbling at the latch.

      

***

      

     Dadrabian quickly motioned the farm owner to a table, grabbing for a nearby pitcher and empty mug, pouring water for the gasping man. After gulping down the cold drink, the man took a moment to catch his breath before beginning to speak. “I was... out in my field...” he wheezed between gasps for air, “when they started... marching up over the ridge. Hundreds of ‘em!” He shuddered at the thought, downing his refilled mug at once, grimacing at the water’s chill. He wished it were ale.

     “Hundreds of what?” Dadrabian asked, his voice serious.

     “What?” the farmer asked, confused for a moment, “Oh, yes. Skeletons! From the Ruins’d be my guess.” He shivered unconsciously, “Some I’d never seen before. Heard about ‘em in stories, though. Huge things, carrying swords taller’n me!”

     The old Knight paused to run his fingers through his hair, “Undead... leaving the Ruins? What would be causing… that…” _Shadowhyn, what have you done?_ He wondered, fear beginning to claw at his stomach. “Do you know where they were headed?” the Inn Keeper asked.

     “The skeletons? Oh, I’d say they was headed ‘ere. I outran their slow march, but they should be here within the hour,” the farmer replied, “I thought you’d want ta’ know. I’m gonna go to the Temple,” the man stood up and walked briskly toward the door. When he heaved the great iron-banded door open, the Guild Members could see out into the Village square.

     People walked or ran through the square, carrying packs and bags, all heading toward the Temple. The merchants were gathering their wares, their servants swiftly packing the items into chests. Daria and Dadrabian walked to the doorway as an outcry rose from the direction of the Temple, voices raised in worry and anger.

     “Stay here,” Dadrabian said to his sister as he turned to throw his apron on a bench, “I’ll be back.” The old Knight disappeared into the milling throng.

     DragonClaw turned back to the Sorcerer as the Guild listened intently, “Are you sure, Slifer?”

     The man nodded, holding his hands apart as Construct glowed between them, symbols and dots dancing across its surface, “There is a massive amount of Undead advancing toward the Village,” He motioned toward a set of flickering symbols, “They should be here within two hours, at the latest.” He frowned at the Construct before releasing it, “That’s all I can tell at this point.”

     The Paladin nodded, “That much is enough. Thank you.” She turned to look at the Guild Members, studying their faces for a moment before squaring her jaw, “We have work to do.”

      

***

      

     Dadrabian rounded the corner of the Smithy, and the Temple’s yard came into view. It seemed as if the entire village population had gathered in front of the white stone building, while a smaller, tighter crowd stood around the GateKeeper’s well. Worried voices rose from around him as he pushed his way toward the well, threading his way through the crowd. Reaching the inside of the ring of people, the Inn Keeper stopped to stare.

     The High Priest crouched at the side of the GateKeeper’s body, a hand at her wrist and throat. “She still lives,” he said, “What happened to her?” he asked, his voice growing loud as he directed the question to the people standing around.

     “I-I don’t know,” one man said.

     “She just fell to the ground,” a woman interrupted.

     “What’s going on?” an indignant merchant cried from behind them.

     “What does this mean?” another man asked.

     Dadrabian forced his way to the High Priest’s side, crouching next to the man to whisper into his ear, “Father, there are Undead coming to the Village.” He glanced around at the people standing nearby, “You need to get these people into the Temple, to safety.”

     The High Priest nodded, standing to his feet and raising his hands, a golden disc of light appearing above his head as he chanted a spell, “ _Children!_ ” he called, the glowing Pattern amplifying his voice to drown out the buzzing conversations of the gathered villagers, “ _You must all come inside, where I will give you more information… Be calm, there is room for everyone in the Temple._ ”

     Releasing his spell, the High Priest turned to an empty-handed workman, pointing to the GateKeeper, “Carry her inside, carefully, and let one of the clergymen lead you further.” Turning back to Dadrabian, the High Priest stepped close to speak softly, “Thank you, Dadrabian. They will be safe inside, protected by our prayers. Can your friends… handle this?”

     The old Knight nodded, confidence in his voice, “Yes, Father. Pray for us, as well.”

     The High Priest nodded, “Of course, my child. The blessings of Einhasad upon you all.” Turning swiftly, the High Priest made his way toward the Temple’s entrance, speaking words of encouragement to the villagers still making their way inside. After a moment of staring at the GateKeeper’s well, Dadrabian turned to run back to his Inn.

      

***

      

     DragonClaw turned to Shinoa, “Your gift from the Blacksmith is in the chest at the foot of your bed. Check on Shadowhyn on your way back down.” The young Blade Dancer nodded, sprinting off toward the stairs. The Guild Members moved quickly, retrieving their weapons and armor from their rooms and bringing them to the large fireplace for inspection. As Thainn examined each blade with a critical eye, Mauldis and Sado adjusted their leather-and-iron armor, working straps and buckles. Phoebus and Droxanna sat cross-legged on the floor before the fire, chanting softly as they meditated. Pendragon held his arms up as Evilchrist tightened his breastplate, Nifii helping Keos work the joints of his layered gauntlets before turning to help buckle the back of Lord Viper’s massive armor. Rhianwen and Slifer checked their belt pouches, examining the crystals, spell components, and other magical objects they carried, running swift fingers in practiced motions as they began to trace their elemental Patterns.

     Within minutes, they all sat before the fireplace, waiting for the Paladin to speak. “I don’t know what’s causing this,” DragonClaw said, “But we’re all that stands between the villagers and the Undead.”

     As the Guild Leader pulled on her gauntlets, Rhianwen spoke up, “How are we to be positioned?”

     DragonClaw pulled a map of the village from the table, spreading it out on the stone floor before them. She pointed, “Slifer, Droxanna, Evil and Lord Viper will hold the North Gate. Rhianwen, Mauldis and Shinoa will be stationed here at the East Gate,” the Paladin paused to look up at the Spellsinger, “The shoreline is only thirty paces from there, use that to your advantage.” Rhianwen nodded as the Guild Leader continued, “Pendragon, I want you, Thainn, and Phoebus to guard the South Gate. Keos, you’ll support them. Sado, you will be on the wall providing ranged-support for the South and West Gates. Run across the rooftops if you have to.” The Hawkeye grunted as he checked his arrows, examining points and fletches for problems. “I will be at the West Gate with Dadrabian and Nifii.” The Paladin stood, looking down at the map before glancing at each of the faces before her, “Any questions? Good. Once Shinoa and Dadrabian are finished getting ready, we move.”

     Shinoa quickly padded her way to her room, taking the stairs three at a time, her bare feet stinging against the polished wooden steps. _Have to hurry_ , she scolded herself mentally for being so unprepared, for not stopping the Undead yesterday. How she could have done that didn’t matter; she should have done _something_. She glanced at the door to the Bishop’s room as she sprinted past, _Need to check on her before we head out._ She shuddered briefly, the memory of the red-haired woman’s maddened eyes floating through her mind. _I’ve not seen eyes like that since..._ A chill ran down her spine as she remembered the morning after Ulana returned from her Trials in the School of the Dark Arts. Shaking her head to clear the image from her mind, the young Dark Elf reached for the door to her room, twisting the latch to throw the door open, slamming it shut behind her. She spat curses as she knuckled her eyes, rubbing the fresh tears from her face. Why would thinking of Ulana bring tears? There was no time for that.

     _DragonClaw said it was in the trunk..._ Spotting the metal-bound trunk half-buried beneath the bedding she’d thrown off in her fury, she swiftly cleared off the blankets as she knelt before the large case. Slowly opening the lid, Shinoa peered inside. A single piece of paper rested atop a thick piece of soft leather; the handwriting on the note was simple, almost crude, in its shapes.

      

     _‘To the Blade Dancer and the Bishop,_

     _My daughter Joan is all that I have left now that my wife died long ago._

     _I can never thank you enough for sending her home safely._

     _I hope these can show my utmost appreciation._

     _Allman’_

      

     Gingerly, Shinoa set the note aside and lifted the soft leather covering from the trunk. A long, narrow metal case, polished to a mirror-shine, about half a pace long, lay on top of another piece of soft leather. A small note, printed with ‘ _For the Bishop_ ’ was attached to the case. Lifting the case from the trunk revealed another note, ‘ _For the Blade Dancer._ ’ Shinoa pulled the second leather piece from the trunk.

     Ebony and onyx traced plates of hammered steel were nestled within, reflecting the early morning sunlight that filled the room. With a surprised gasp, the Blade Dancer began to pull out piece after piece, laying a complete set of armor on the floor before her. _Tallum plate?!_ Shinoa stared at the perfectly crafted armor, running a fingertip over the faint crest printed on the breastplate that displayed the Blacksmith Allman’s coat of arms. _This… this is…_ Voices from the Great Hall echoed down the corridor, breaking the young Dark Elf’s daze. Hurriedly donning the armor, Shinoa looked around for her swords. Finding them leaning against the wall next to the full-length mirror, the Blade Dancer paused after strapping the sheaths to her back, looking at her reflection. She almost didn’t recognize herself. _I look… older? Different, at least._ Before turning away, she wondered if her mother would have been proud. She reached for the metal case lying in front of the trunk; _I’ll put this in her room._

     Shaking the doubts from her mind, she turned the latch, stepping out into the hallway. _I need to check on—_ “Shadowhyn!” Her blood ran cold when she caught sight of the red-haired woman lying in the corridor, halfway out of her room.

     At the sound of her name, the Bishop lifted her head, looking around weakly, “Sh-Shinoa?” She began to struggle forward, pushing herself off the floor to crawl, as the Blade Dancer dashed to her side, sliding an arm around the smaller woman’s chest to lift her to her feet.

     “What are you doing out of bed?” Shinoa demanded, trying to turn the woman back to her room.

     “No, no!” Shadowhyn groaned, hooking an arm around the doorframe, “I-I need to w-warn the others!”

     Shinoa chewed her lip for a moment as she thought, “Alright, I’ll help you downstairs. Then you need to rest!” She tried to sound firm, but the Bishop just smiled at her.

     “There’s no more time to rest, Shinoa.”

     Every eye in the Hall turned when they appeared at the top of the stairs, and several voices rose in protest when they saw Shinoa helping Shadowhyn down to the ground floor.

     “Why is she out of bed!” Nifii growled as Rhianwen said, “Shinoa, what are you thinking!”

     DragonClaw snapped, “Get back upstairs, Shadaera!”

     Shadowhyn’s balance wavered briefly as she hung onto the young Dark Elf’s shoulder, but her expression never changed, “ _I need to tell you something!_ ” she said, raising her voice above the others. “What you will face out there…” she faltered, searching for the right words to say, “Is… beyond any one of us…” A tear ran down her cheek, “Certainly, beyond my abilities alone.” She looked up at Shinoa and smiled, “But, a friend told me that I should… share my burdens with those that I love…” She looked up, looking at the faces of those standing before her, “A weight shared is a weight halved, and I… I need your help, today.”

     DragonClaw sighed, rubbing her forehead, “Does this have anything to do with the Undead approaching?”

     Almost embarrassed, the Bishop nodded, “They… they’re coming for me.” She could feel everyone staring at her in disbelief, “Apparently I’m a key component in their Master’s plans?”

     Rhianwen glanced at the Paladin, “Should we get in position?”

     DragonClaw nodded, a frown on her face, “Yes. Shadowhyn, you stay close to me.”

     The Bishop nodded before looking up at the Blade Dancer, “Help me to my room in the Temple? I need to get dressed… and I have something for you.”

     The Guild Members burst from the Inn at a run, peeling off into their assigned groups and heading off to their designated places. DragonClaw and Nifii trotted out of the building ahead of Shinoa and Shadowhyn, the Paladin checking her armor one last time while the Elder hefted her Lance over her shoulder.

     “Still using that thing?” DragonClaw asked with a grin.

     Nifii laughed, “It’s all your fault.”

     Dadrabian paused at the door to the Inn, looking back to see Daria holding Lydia and Joan close to her side, “Stay inside, with the door bolted,” the old Knight said as he pulled a gauntlet on, flexing his fingers, “If… they get in the Village, I want you to run to the Temple. You’ll be safe there.”

     As he ran out the door, Daria held a hand to her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes. “ _Be safe, brother_ ,” she whispered.

     As they slowly made their way to the Temple, Shadowhyn grinned at Shinoa, “My legs are getting stronger, Sister. You needn’t worry about supporting me.”

     Shinoa laughed, “Don’t tell me not to worry… Are you sure you should be out here?”

     The Bishop grew quiet for a while, before speaking softly, “ _’We must have the will, the hope, to withstand this coming darkness’_ … I need to face my fears, not hide from them.”

     The young Dark Elf nodded as they reached the Temple’s door, “I understand.” She turned to look at DragonClaw, “We’ll be down in a moment.”

     The Paladin nodded, “Be quick, they’ll be here soon.”

     As the two women walked through the Temple doors, they saw the Villagers gathered in the nave, all with their heads bowed as the High Priest recited a long, chanting prayer. Sneaking around to the stone staircase, the women made their way up to the Bishop’s quarters. Scorch marks marred the walls around her door, and the red-haired woman frowned, “My Wards didn’t stop him… I’m not as strong as I thought I was…”

     Pushing the door open, the Bishop headed for the worn dresser standing in the corner, hesitantly pulling a tattered set of blue-and-white robes from the bottom drawer. As the human held the clothing up, Shinoa could see faded spots of crimson marking the skirt and jacket. “Is that—”

     Shadowhyn nodded, “Yes. These are the robes I wore… that night.” She lowered her arms, turning to the Blade Dancer, “I could not bring myself to look at them afterward, much less wear them… DeeCee must have had them mended.” She thought for a moment before asking carefully, “Do you think it would… offend… Ulana if I were to wear these?”

     The young Dark Elf shook her head, “No, it would be fitting.”

     Shadowhyn nodded slowly, “I also have something for you… Forgive me for not getting these to you sooner.” Reaching under the bed, she slid a large, rolled blanket out with a groan. Setting the blanket on the bed, the Bishop unrolled it to reveal a pair of heavy, sheathed swords, “These were Ulana’s. I know she would have wanted you to have them.”

     Shinoa stared at the blades before gently lifting them from Shadowhyn’s bed. Propping one sword against her leg, the Blade Dancer pulled the other from its sheath, gazing at its sharp, serrated edge. “These… These were my mother’s swords.”

     The Bishop smiled as she removed her long dress, the black amulet glittering darkly at her throat as she reached for her blue-and-white robes, “Then I’m glad I could give them to you.”

     Shinoa shuddered as she caught sight of the smaller woman’s scars, “You… I think my mother…”

     Shadowhyn looked at the young Dark Elf as she pulled the white-laced jacket over her head, “Yes, your mother?”

     Shinoa sighed, “I’d like to think… she would have liked you.”

     The Bishop laughed, “I’ve loved all her children, I think I would have liked her as well.”

     Shinoa smiled, before growing quiet. Quickly unbuckling her sword belts, the Blade Dancer handed her blades to the Bishop, “Here, I want you to use these today… I didn’t have time to find your staff before leaving the Library.”

     The human woman smiled, “I’ve never been very good with a sword… but thank you. And you needn’t worry about the staff.”

     Shinoa nodded as she buckled her mother’s swords into the scabbard grooves at her back. Her hand brushed the metal case hanging from her belt, “Oh, and this is from the Blacksmith for rescuing Joan,” she said as she handed the case to the Bishop. Shadowhyn laid the case on the dresser as she struggled to buckle the swords around her waist, groaning softly as their weight pulled at her left arm. “How do you feel?” Shinoa asked softly as the woman finished.

     “Oh… I’ll be alright,” Shadowhyn replied picking up the case and thumbing the latch, lifting the polished metal lid to glance inside. Nestled in the purple fabric lining lay a long dagger, sheathed in soft leather. The hilt was a textured, blueish metal, the pommel flared out into a series of points, one large spike at the tip. A golden eye decorated the sun-burst shaped pommel. _Now, where did Allman find a Soul Separator?_

     She paused before looking up from the case, “We’d best get moving.”


	19. V. Instigation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the new.

 

 

 **Instigation** _n._ : The act of instigating, or the state of being instigated; incitement; esp. to evil or wickedness.

 

 

     _I have little time, now. I sent Shinoa out to join her party at the East Gate. I lied to her face... I am not well, not at all. I cannot find my center, my connection to my Sacred Art... I feel emptiness where I should feel peace. I fear for the others in this coming battle; they will be depending on my strength, and I have none to give. I fear that giving in to my anger has given Einhasad cause to reject me. I fear that I will fail my Sister once again...  I am afraid. If I fail… if anyone finds these words... Please... I pray that you can forgive me._

     ~ _Shadaera Whynn Fenrir_

     Shadowhyn set the quill down next to the journal, taking care not to drip ink onto the page half covered with her hurried scribbles. She paused, her arms braced on either side of the small, worn desk, shaking her head to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. _All the time that I spent here, alone,_ the Bishop turned to cast one last glance around her simple room, _to keep my friends, my family, safe..._ She balled her fists as the tears swelled in her vision, drawing a gloved hand across her face to wipe at her eyes, _Yet here they are... I don’t deserve such love_. She sighed, running her hands through her hair, _I have such a bad feeling about this day_.

     The red-haired woman froze when she caught sight of the old, faded blood staining her sapphire-blue glove. A chill ran down her spine, _Why did I think it was a good idea to wear these?_ She looked down; her old, familiar robes were torn in places, spotted and stained in others with a dull crimson, that disquietingly heavy jet-black amulet from Ulana hanging from its matching chain at her throat. _I cannot—will not—fail you again, Sister_ , Shadowhyn thought as she traced a fingertip along the amulet’s curve, raising an eyebrow as a slight tingle ran through her hand before clasping her hands in prayer, _Einhasad forgive me for my failures in the past, and strengthen me today_.

     Movement from out the window caught her eye, and the Bishop stepped to the casement to watch Shinoa sprint across the Village square, sunlight glinting off her ebony armor, flashing from the long, serrated blades she held low to the ground. Shadowhyn shook her head as she watched the young Blade Dancer reach the East Gate, _Why did I lie to her? I can trust her_. The woman shivered, wincing as the sharp motion pulled her still-tender left arm. _I... I just can’t say it out loud..._ Gritting her teeth as she concentrated, the red-haired woman wove the fingers of her right hand in a practiced motion, matching her gestures with a steady incantation. She waited two heartbeats, three more, five... Nothing. _I... I just... can’t_. The wind whistled past her window, a low, hollow noise that filled her small, simple room. She lowered her eyes, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed into her hands.

      

***

      

     Nifii turned away from her conversation with DragonClaw, her long, sensitive ears catching the sound of heavy footsteps several moments before the human could hear them. Shinoa leapt from the Temple’s half-opened doorway with a smile on her face, her eyes dancing with a multitude of emotions. Without a word, the young Dark Elf snatched the blades hanging at her back from their scabbards, bringing the swords around toward the Paladin. “Look!” Shinoa cried as she stared down the lengths of shining steel, meeting the Guild Leader’s confused expression, “Shadowhyn had my mother’s swords!”

     Nifii clapped her hands and said “Oh, that’s wonderful!” as DragonClaw nodded, thinking for a moment before speaking.

     “Congratulations, Shinoa. I’m sure both your Mother and Ulana would be proud of you,” the Paladin clasped the Blade Dancer’s shoulder with a smile, “As you have made us all proud.”

     “Thank you...” the silver-haired Blade Dancer donned a grin as she stretched her arms, flexing her fingers around the wrapped leather hilts of her swords, “What say we celebrate with a drink at the Inn when this is all over?” Shinoa said with a wicked laugh.

     “Just don’t be too greedy out there,” DragonClaw replied in turn.

     The Dark Elf snorted as she turned toward the East Gate, “Mauldis will be mad at me later, I’m sure... Take care of them, Nifii!” she called over her shoulder, leaning low to the ground as she increased her pace.

     Dadrabian approached the Shillien Elder and the Paladin, glancing over his shoulder at the swiftly moving Blade Dancer, “All things well?” he asked, giving his gauntlets a tug as he flexed his fingers.

     “Yes,” DragonClaw replied, shading her eyes against the late morning sun peaking over the Village wall, “Shinoa will be...”

     “Effective?” Nifii offered before assuming an innocent expression, peering closely at the tip of her Lance.

     The Guild Leader laughed—a grim, empty sound, “Yes, she will certainly be effective today.”

     The old Knight smiled, sorrow in his eyes, “May we all be so, today.” Rummaging through a pouch tied at his belt, the Inn Keeper sighed as he pulled a handful of crystals free, “I’ll set about summoning my panther; he’s a good set of eyes and ears to have in a fight. Where’s Shadaera?”

     DragonClaw groaned as she rubbed at her forehead in exasperation, “She’s still up in her room,” the Paladin turned and began to walk toward the GateKeeper’s Well, “Her window is on this side of the Temple...”

     As Dadrabian crouched to begin tracing symbols in the dirt, Nifii trotted after her Guild Leader, grunting softly as she swung the double-pace long Lance up and across her shoulders, letting the pole-arm’s weight settle into the crook of her elbows, “Why do you call her that?” the Shillien Elder leaned forward to inquire over the human’s shoulder.

     “What, now?” DragonClaw asked distractedly, her mind elsewhere.

     “Why do you call her ‘Shadaera’?” the Dark Elf repeated, “I’ve not heard her called that until today.”

     “Oh, right...” the Paladin nodded, “We call her that because it’s her birth name.”

     The silver-haired Dark Elf slowly shook her head as she thought, “Then, her name’s not really—”

     “ _Shadowhyn!_ ” DragonClaw bellowed, cupping her hands around her mouth. Looking over her shoulder at the Shillien Elder, the Guild Leader replied, “No, that’s just the name she gave herself after she reached the mainland.”

     Nifii frowned, a sadness in her eyes, “Why would she not tell me? I thought we were closer friends th—”

     “Don’t think too much on it,” DragonClaw interrupted, “She had her reasons, and it probably had something to do with this problem we have today... _Shadowhyn!_ “

     Slowly, the red-haired woman leaned out her third-story window, smiling weakly as she waved down to her friends. “Yes, DeeCee?” the Bishop slowly eased herself down to rest on the window sill.

     “Are you alright?” Nifii called, worry creasing her forehead.

     Shadowhyn knuckled her eyes, groaning softly, “I’m just... so tired.”

     The Paladin frowned, “I’m sorry, but we need to get into position.” The red-haired woman nodded, pushing up from the casement to disappear into her room. She looked over at the Dark Elf, “My given name isn’t DragonClaw, by the way.”

     “What?!” Nifii exclaimed.

     The strawberry-blonde human laughed, “Did you honestly think my mother held a tiny baby in her arms and said, ‘I think _DragonClaw_ is rather lovely’?” The Paladin grinned, shook her head, “I just liked the sound of it when I was, like, thirteen, and—"

     Nifii groaned, rubbing her face with her hands, “ _Goddess below_ , you humans are _so_ strange.”

     A low, rumbling snarl sounded from behind the two women, as did Dadrabian’s voice, “She’s always been someone who has overcome her fears... I find this ‘new’ Shadowhyn to be quite strange.” The old Knight walked toward the women, his black panther pacing close behind. Nifii knelt down to see the large animal, and the panther nuzzled close to her shoulder, allowing her to scratch behind its ears.

     “For someone as damaged as she,” DragonClaw raised a hand to tap a finger against her forehead, “I think her condition is...”

     “Intriguing,” Nifii muttered, nodding toward the Temple’s main entrance.

     Shadowhyn took a few hesitant steps out of the dark-stoned building, nervously adjusting the sword belts that lay heavily around her slender waist. Pausing to clench her fists before shifting a long, sheathed dagger to the small of her back, the Bishop turned to face her companions.

     “Shadowhyn... _those_ robes...?” Nifii’s voice trailed off into silence.

     The red-haired woman nodded, brushing her hands against her frayed sapphire-and-white skirt, “I mean to end this, today. These... remind me why I fight.”

     Dadrabian nodded, his expression solemn, “Today we avenge our fallen.”

      

*******

      

     The bright afternoon sun sat high above the horizon, swollen with the summer’s heat. Sado crouched within the ever-shrinking shadow cast by the Temple’s bell-tower, idly listening to the buzz of conversation that drifted up from the ground far below. As his eyes swept the haze-distorted horizon, the Hawkeye silently cursed the sun’s heat. _Can barely see the Obeli—_ A single glint of light caught his eye, and he froze, staring at the field where he saw... Glancing down quickly to draw a circular pattern in the dust coating the Temple roof, Sado placed his palm in the symbol as he concentrated on the landscape. The activated spell-sigil flared bright as the Temple roof swept away—swiftly followed by the Village wall—as his vision sped across the fields. Rocks and trees blurred as the fields beyond leapt forward, filling his enhanced sight.

     A calm breeze caressed the long grasses of the fields surrounding the Obelisk of Victory, a tall carven-stone monument to the past, settled in the center of the Northern and Western Roads’ intersection. The four Guardsmen who stood on watch around the Obelisk were not at their normal posts. Sado frowned slightly, playing his fingertips over the Construct, his field of vision withdrawing for a moment before blurring closer to the crossroads. A dark stain on the side of the Obelisk caught his attention, the shape of it leading his eye to the crumpled body sprawled in the dust. _No… not body…_ bodies _. All four?_ Sado squinted, gritting his teeth as he pushed in closer, trying to see through the rippling heat.

     _All four Guardsmen, dead._ He reached into the pouch at the small of his back, feeling around for a piece of chalk. He turned to the bell-tower and drew a Pattern on one of the larger stones. He placed his palm over the white symbol and recited a quick incantation. A small Construct appeared at the back of his head, shaped somewhat like a circular chain, and a tangle of voices began spilling into his ears.

     “DragonClaw,” he said, loudly, drawing the Paladin’s attention through the linking spell, “the Guardsmen at the Obelisk are dead. What’s the plan?”

     DragonClaw slowed to a jog at the sound of her name. She turned to look up at the Temple, saw the Hawkeye walking to the edge of the roof’s peak. “Call the groupings for us, Sado. Let us know when and where they’re going.” She turned back toward the West Gate, trying to get a ground-level idea of the terrain beyond the walls, “If you see any chances for artillery, take them.”

     She looked at the hill that loomed over the West Gate, the Western Road curving around it only about twenty paces outside the Village walls, “We’ll be at a disadvantage with this blocking our sight, keep an eye on us?”

     “You got it,” Sado said as he began stabbing arrows into the roof, sinking the mithril arrowheads half-way into the wooden planks. He made a line, emptying one quiver, keeping his reserve half full. Working quickly, he began to pull little tubes of Dwarven design from his “bag of toys”, tying one to every other arrow in the row. The tubes were filled with gunpowder and chunks of metal, prepared in such a way as to explode on impact. Sado grinned; he wasn’t normally allowed to put these to use in the field.

     Once he was done, he checked his bow and quiver, ran a finger along the bowstring, adjusted the angle of his shoulder strap, and waited. He ran his thumb over the Pattern etched in the grip of his bow, his vision once again leapt over the village wall. A rippling, rolling motion caught his eye, drawing his attention to the fields around the Obelisk.

     Rank after cluttered rank of skeleton warriors marched toward the Village, a great mass of creatures numbering in the thousands, at least. Sado whistled, long and low. “Our guests are on their way,” he said, hearing various responses come back through their link, “I’ll send them a couple party invitations.” The replies piled on top of each other, _yeah! go for it! aww, I can’t see it from here…_

     He pulled an arrow out of the row before him, gripping the fletches loosely as he pulled his vision back to normal. He paused, watching the trees, seeing how the winds blew their branches, gauged the distance. In one smooth motion he raised his bow, drew the arrow back and released; instinctual, practiced movements sending a shard of mithril skyward.

     The arrow and its Dwarven payload soared above the Village wall, a long, high parabolic arc that had it falling on the South-West field of the Obelisk Crossroad. Sado watched with a nod of satisfaction as the bomb went off on impact, a fireball fifty paces wide turning the marching Undead to so much ash and tinder. As the flames swept across the grassy plains, the Hawkeye pressed his thumb down on the spell-sigil, his vision leaping forward to get a closer view of the bomb’s handiwork.

     Close to a thousand Skeleton Warriors disintegrated in the blast, hundreds more were damaged by the shock wave, flying bone, and the spreading flames. But he could see that barely touched the massive force approaching the town. Slifer’s voice came through the link, “ _Sado, you started a fire._ ” The Hawkeye laughed—he knew what was coming. “ _That’s_ my _job… but nice work._ ” Sado gazed to the west, south-west. That blasted hill just outside the West Gate was going to be a problem. Einhovant’s School was on the far side, but he couldn’t see it from the roof of the Temple. He sent another two mithril arrows flying, one directed toward the beach between the Harbor and the South Gate, the other to fall beyond the School.

     Two thundering mountains of flame erupted, both slightly hidden by the hill. Sado spoke to DragonClaw, “That should help drive them toward the North Gate, but we’ll see. I may need to move to the top of that hill.”

      

***

      

     DragonClaw glanced over her shoulder at the archer, before turning her attention back to the Western Road. She stood outside the gate, Dadrabian at her side, the two mages behind them. She looked up at the hill, considering. Tactically, it was sound. “I’m concerned about you getting caught up there, make sure you have an Escape with you.”

     “ _On it,_ ” Sado replied. A _whistle_ - _thunk_ sounded from the wall near the gate, a rope hanging from an arrow buried in the battlement. The Hawkeye slid down the zipline after securing its other end at the Temple’s bell-tower. DragonClaw turned to see the man jump down to the ground, landing lightly in a crouch. Shadowhyn leaned against the Gate door nearby, Nifii standing next to her, checking the bandages on her shoulder as the two spoke quietly.

     “Wait, Sado,” the Bishop said, “let me give you… uh…” she paused, uncertainty written on her face, “Nifii? Could you cast _Wind Walk_ on Sado?” As the Elder nodded, looking at the Hawkeye as she began her incantation, the red-haired woman walked to DragonClaw, “I… I have a confession to make,” She sighed, heavily, eyes on the ground. “I can’t...”

     The Paladin looked at the pale woman, tilted her head slightly as she studied her mannerisms. DragonClaw’s eyes widened as she understood, “Since when?”

     Shadowhyn’s voice was a whisper, “ _Since I woke up… I… I don’t_ feel _anything_.” She looked up, meeting the reddish-blonde woman’s eyes, “I don’t know what’s wrong, what’s happening to me… I think,” she faltered a bit, “I’m a liability. I don’t know if I should be here.” She waved to the Hawkeye as Sado ran past, Dadrabian raising his palm to receive a loud clap from the other man.

     “Whatever this is, we’re in it together,” DragonClaw said, placing a gentle hand on the Bishop’s shoulder. She nodded toward Nifii as the Dark Elf approached, “We still need you out here, your experience, your insight. Stay close to us, alright?”

     Shadowhyn bit her lip, nodded to the Paladin. “Maybe… Maybe I can teach Nifii some spells, even if I can’t,” she paused, looking to the Dark Elf, “I can’t cast… Anything.”

     Nifii frowned, studying the red-haired woman’s face as she thought. “Come with me,” She said, taking Shadowhyn’s hand as she turned toward the West Gate. “We shall meditate, and see what is revealed to us.”

     The Bishop followed close beside, hooking her arm around the Dark Elf’s wrist, resting her head on Nifii’s shoulder as they walked. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her eyes on the middle-distance as Nifii glanced down at the woman. They found a shaded spot just inside the Gate, and sat down, facing each other, the human settling a bit slower than the Dark Elf.

     Nifii opened her mouth to speak, but Shadowhyn cleared her throat, held up a hand, “I just… I found out yesterday that you tended to me after what happened at the School, and… I wanted to say thank you, and… and I’m sorry.” The human sighed, rubbed at her palm with her other hand, “I thought I had made you mad at me for sending you away from the School, had convinced myself that I’d damaged our relationship beyond repair,” she looked up, saw the Elder looking at her while slowly shaking her head, “and so I didn’t reach out to you. I was a craven fool.” She hesitantly reached out a hand, Nifii quickly grasped it, interlocked their fingers.

     Nifii looked away for a moment before meeting Shadowhyn’s eyes, “I admit, I was confused after hearing what DragonClaw had to say. To think that you had seen... well, and then with you being Goddess-touched and all, but I—”

     “ _What_ -touched?”

     “—had some time to think about everything while you were recovering, I mean, I couldn’t really talk to you about it until four years after, once you were able to speak again—"

     “ _Years?_ It… was a _week_ —”

     “—and it made me so sad, I just couldn’t bear to see you like th—a _week?_ ” Nifii paused, peering closely at the red-haired woman’s face, seeing for the first time the confusion that filled her eyes, “Shadaera, wait, is it alright if I call you that?”

     “What? Of course, that’s my n—”

     “Shadaera… you didn’t _wake_ for seven _months_. You were catatonic for another fifteen. I-I helped you learn how to walk again after five more, it was another _eight_ before you would _recognize_ me when you looked at me,” Nifii paused as the color drained completely from the human’s face, her mouth falling open in horror. The Drow reached out, grabbed Shadowhyn’s other hand, held them tightly in her hands. “I… I’ve told you this before,” Nifii said sadly as the red-haired woman started shaking her head, tears welling up to drown her green eyes, “but you never remember it.”

      

*****


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

     Sado stood atop the hill to the west of the Village. The high ground there afforded him an unbroken view of most of Talking Island, aside from the small cliffside path that fell behind the mountain range on the far Western side. _This is bad_. A near unbroken sea of Undead swept across the fields, arranging themselves in great waves, ranked formations. Thousands of Skeleton Warriors, and Archers, with as many Ghouls beside. Larger forms lurked among the horde, _Doom Knights, too?_ he thought as he watched.

     He strained his vision forward, pushing far, trying to see if he could find the source of it all. “Hey, guys?” he said into the link, his voice a little uncertain now that he could see the threat clearly.

     “ _What do your hawk eyes see?_ ” Mauldis’ low rumble came through, followed by a few laughs. The Hawkeye sighed, but had to laugh as well.

     “Nice,” Sado said, “They’re as far as the hawk can see, that’s for sure. Skeleton warriors, archers, ghouls, mostly.” He looked again, “Some Doom Knights, some skellies have armor on.”

     “ _Captains, then. Where are they headed?_ ” DragonClaw asked.

     “Main force heading for the North and West Gates, could spill over to the East. Maybe sixty, seventy percent? The rest are swinging south.” Sado said, watching the fields carefully.

     “ _D’ye think a siege golem woul’ do, laddie?_ ” Thainn asked. A few claps and cheers, _this will be awesome_ came through the link.

     “It’d be best at the North-West side of the Village, let it stomp around out in the fields,” Sado replied. DragonClaw hummed faintly in his ear as she considered.

     “ _Get up on the wall, Thainn, get to the corner and summon from there._ ” The Paladin ordered, asked, “ _How long will the summon take?_ ”

     “ _Abou’ five minutes_ ,” The Dwarf replied, “ _I’m on m’ way_.”

     “ _Good. Sado? Send them some more invitations._ ”

     The Hawkeye grinned as he gently pulled an arrow out of his quiver.

      

***

      

     Rhianwen shaded her eyes from the afternoon sun as she half-listened to the Guild’s banter. She looked around, eyeing the terrain, getting a sense of how the battle would flow once it reached her Gate. And it _would_ , it just helped to have a plan in place. Straight out the East Gate stood the Rockswell lighthouse. The stone tower stood as far out from the shore as the shore was from the Village wall, roughly fifty paces altogether. A rocky promontory lifted it high above the water line. _If only it were closer_ , Rhianwen mused, her eyes darting back and forth as she considered distances. _Oh well._

     Mauldis sat in the shade of a nearby tree, looking carefully at the blades on his Fists. He carefully honed an edge with a whetstone, calmly anticipating the coming battle.

     The Spellsinger glanced over at the young Blade Dancer, studying her carefully. Shinoa knelt in front of her mother’s swords, the blades standing up in the dirt, the Dark Elf’s eyes closed as she meditated? prayed? _Either way_ , the Elf shook her head slightly, a proud smile on her face. _She looks so grown up. Older, somehow. In just two days!_

     Shinoa grinned, her eyes flashing open, as she caught Rhianwen looking. The Elf jumped in surprise as the Drow laughed, “What were you thinking just now, Sister?”

     Rhianwen chuckled as she pushed a lock of hair over her ear, “My, how you’ve grown,” she smiled at the Dark Elf’s knowing look.

     “I do feel older, somehow,” Shinoa replied.

     Mauldis looked over his shoulder, pointed a thumb through the open Gate, “Spending time with _that human_ will prematurely age _anyone_.” He grinned at Rhianwen as Shinoa tossed a clod of dirt at his shoulder.

      

***

      

     _No… no, no, no, that can’t be right!_ Shadowhyn shook her head, pleading with her eyes for it to not be true. The words wouldn’t come, not that she trusted her voice right now. It felt like her legs had been cut out from under her. _What_ else _don’t I remember?_

     “Shadaera, do you trust me?” Nifii squeezed her hands again, reinforcing her presence with the woman. Shadowhyn nodded, smiled briefly, _Of course I do_ , unable to speak. This revelation had struck her dumb. “Then I shall draw a Pattern for us to concentrate on, and we shall meditate together.”

     The red-haired woman took a deep, shuddering breath before managing to speak. “Why?” she croaked, “Why am I still _alive_?” She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes before speaking again, “What _else_ am I missing?”

     Nifii gave her a small smile, and rubbed her thumbs along the red-haired woman’s knuckles, “DeeCee told me that you owe Shilen your life, that you will perform a service for her to pay your debt.” Shadowhyn’s head snapped up, eyes fixed on the Elder. Her mouth curled into a snarl as she began to respond, but Nifii interrupted, “Let us seek answers… _Together_.” She interlaced her fingers with the Bishop, then held their hands palms inward, wrists resting on their knees as they sat cross-legged on the ground. A yellow-gold circle appeared in the air between them, within the boundary of their arms. The Pattern was simple, at first. Circles within circles, each growing thinner as more circles appeared.

     “Together,” Shadowhyn said with a nod. “Thank you, Nifii... for everything.” _I owe_ you _a debt as well._ The two mages concentrated on the Pattern as it became more complex, each additional line and shape drawing their consciousnesses inward.

      

***

      

     Muffled thumps, a steady drumming, and the rumble of distant explosions drifted faintly over the Village wall. Pendragon stretched, rotated his hips with his arms held wide, touched his toes. Once he felt loose—less stiff, anyway—he pulled his Glaive from where it stood in the hard-packed dirt, spinning it slowly over his head. “Do you think Sado’s going to leave any for us?”

     Keos knelt in the Gate, his swords in hand, the blades crossed over his knees. His eyes were still closed when he answered, “Not for lack of trying.”

     Phoebus grunted in agreement, the WarCryer standing up from where he had been sitting, speaking to the Hawkeye through the Guild link, “How soon will they get here? Let me know when I should start my chant.”

     “ _Not too much longer, you should start seeing the first wave come ‘round the bend_ ,” came the reply, another _crump-whoosh_ filtering through the link, that fireball just visible over the line of hills to the west.

     “ _Good idea_ ,” DragonClaw spoke to her Guild, “ _Phoebus, Droxy, get your chants going. We_ must _hold the line. Protect the Village. Drinks are on me tonight._ ”

     Phoebus paused for a moment as he decided which chant to begin first. He began to speak in a rough rhythm, coarse, guttural syllables and phrases in the Orcish tongue, a raging fire springing to life in the palm of his hand. He raised his voice and his hand at once, finishing his chant as he tossed the flame in the air. A green aura surrounded the Guild members as his _Chant of Battle_ took effect. A similar-but-different refrain came through the link as Droxanna finished her own chant to gain Pa’agrio’s favor, and blueish lines of a quickening energy flowed around her allies.

     That vague drumming noise had increased in volume, becoming harder to ignore, more distinct. It was footsteps, not drums; a thundering wall of sound that ran ahead of the wall of bleached bone and sinew. Pendragon stepped forward, stopping just outside the South Gate. The sheer number of Undead that approached the Village was unbelievable. The beach was wide, a hundred paces or more, but the wave of Skeletons stretched from the water’s edge all the way up to the trees at the southern slope of Sado’s hill. _What could make them behave like this? They’re not the swarming kind._ The Warlord leveled his large axe-topped spear toward the rushing enemies.

     He spoke calmly into the Guild link, “Contact in 3… 2… 1...” He took a step, swinging his Glaive in a circle, shattering bone in a wide arc. Keos dashed forward under the human’s flashing pole-arm, his blades slicing through the Undead who tried to push past the Warlord. He smiled, an Elven battle song on his lips, his swords glowing with a holy light. Phoebus waded into the throng, axe and shield alike crushing bone, beating them back.

     Keos slid back, feet slipping in a circle as he ducked under Pendragon’s backswing. “These aren’t dangerous by themselves,” the Elf said, speaking over the clamor, “but in a horde this size, we’ll need to be careful.” He launched himself again, blades carving a path through the creatures.

     An arrow whistled by to glance harmlessly off the human’s pauldron, “Keep your eyes open,” Pendragon grunted, swinging his Glaive in a double circle, a dance-like spin keeping his momentum going. The mass of Undead pressed back in on the three men, the sheer numbers pushing in thick and tight. “I think we’ll be here for a while,” he added.

      

***

      

     Slifer snapped his fingers and a phalanx of Undead burned in a firestorm. He turned slightly to the left, snapped again. Skeletons as far as the eye could see, with the slower-moving Ghouls coming up behind. He paused to catch his breath, wipe the sweat from his forehead. Evilchrist put her hand on his shoulder, pulling slightly. He nodded, stepped back so Lord Viper and Droxanna could storm the clacking, clattering multitude.

     “Impressive as your flame is,” Evil said kindly, “you must allow yourself a moment to rest.”

     “Yes!” Lord Viper roared, his two jagged blades separating and splitting a clutch of Ghouls, “Let us have a bit of fun!” Droxanna laughed as she joined the slaughter.

     Evil chanted a quick spell, a yellow-gold construct appearing behind her head, “Besides,” the Elder reached out again, grasping his upper arm, “You’ll be more effective if I share my Mana with you.” A golden light spread from her hand, and the Sorcerer grinned as he felt her Strength flow into his.

     Another surge of Undead came from the North-Western corner, Thainn’s summoning spell having displaced many of the creatures. Slifer pointed his sword at the rushing mob, invoked, “ _Lhach Pelekta!_ ” The earth groaned and cracked as the searing inferno turned it to glass, the Undead piles of tinkling ash. The Sorcerer laughed in disbelief, “That was—” he glanced over his shoulder at the Dark Elf, who answered his astonishment with a smirk, “Let’s do that again!” he said.

      

***

      

     Nothingness.

     Shadowhyn sat in the dark, in this deep blackness, where nothing was. She stood, looked around. She thought for a moment, considering. _Nifii should be here_. At the thought of the Dark Elf, a flickering grayish-blue flame appeared in the distance. Shrugging, the red-haired woman began to walk.

      

***

      

     The ground shuddered and rippled as Thainn’s call was answered. The bright blue summon gate yawned open below the Warsmith’s vantage point atop the Village wall. Two enormous barrel-shaped forearms stretched up from the summon gate, slamming down on the ground to launch the massive mechanical construct free from its pit. The ground shook and the glassy area before the North Gate shattered as the Siege Golem landed. Made from thick beams of hardwood, covered in massive plates of steel, the giant man-shaped clockwork was a fearsome sight. It towered above the Village wall, easily ninety spans in height. It _whirred_ and _clunked_ , spinning its upper body slowly, raising a hammer-arm out toward the wall.

     Thainn jumped from the crenellation, running along the Golem’s arm to stand atop its massive shoulder, grabbing at the hand- and foot-holds on the side of its head. “I’ll take ‘er out fer a run,” the Dwarf called, waving his shield-arm at the two humans in front of the West Gate. The ground vibrated as the Golem stomped its way North, crushing a dozen Skeletons with each step. Thainn pointed at the slight rise to the left of the Northern Road, where rank after rank of Skeleton Archers had stopped. Iron-tipped arrows rang harmlessly off the plate armor around the Warsmith as the Golem adjusted its footing. It began raising its arms above its head, _clunks_ and _groans_ coming from the gears and chains driving the movement. The arms stopped, elbows bent, straining against the tension inside.

      

***

      

     The hard-packed earth beneath her feet lurched as the Siege Golem struck, throwing DragonClaw and Dadrabian to the ground. Cracks appeared in the paint on the wall, cobblestones shifted in their beds. The terrible blow deafened the pair, a ringing howl in their ears as they quickly regained their feet. The woman shook her head, wishing her ears would stop ringing. _Goddess above, I hope that’s not permanent._ The massive construct was still bent forward at the waist, arms resting on the ground where it had hammered the Undead. The Golem’s prey had all but vanished in the impact, a massive gap blown into the sea of creatures from the rippling shockwave.

     The Skeleton Warriors around the West Gate had stopped, thrown to the ground or atop each other, stunned by the great blow. The Paladin returned to the fight, taking advantage of their momentary lapse in movement, stomping on Skeleton heads, bashing them away with her shield. Dadrabian’s panther circled the Knight before pouncing on a pair of Skeletons. It crushed a skull in its jaws, slashing another free with a swipe of its paw.

     DragonClaw grunted as she blocked a sword with her shield, returning the blow with a swing of her axe. “How’s it looking up there, Sado?” she asked, taking a step back as the Undead pushed forward. She glanced back through the gate; Nifii and Shadowhyn were still concentrating on a spell of some kind. _Hope they hurry up_ , she thought as she split another pair of Warriors.

      

***

      

     Sado gave a low whistle as the dust and rubble began to clear from the ground where the Siege Golem struck, revealing the great bell-shaped furrow carved into the earth. “Thainn, that was _impressive_ ,” the Hawkeye said, trying to get a grasp of the changes to the battlefield. The Golem had destroyed almost a quarter of the Undead forces, as well as that gently sloping field to the North-West of the Village. He looked out toward the Obelisk, at the still-marching mass that lurked there. “Looks like the Doom Knights will be here soon, they’re slower moving than the Skellies.”

     He drew another arrow from his quiver, taking care not to jostle the explosive tube strapped to the shaft. “I think there’s a—”

     A flicker over his shoulder made him glance. A dark shape had appeared behind him, humanoid, but large and thin. It raised its hand, and instinct had him leaping up, away, twisting around to fire the arrow he held— _Wait, no! The b_ —

     The hilltop disappeared in sound and flame as the flash of mithril found its target. Sado flew, blown away, tossed high from the explosion, burning and dazed. His hand found the Scroll in his bag, ripping the ribbon free as he fell, the fount of blue flame searing the air far too close to the ground. He appeared in the center of the Village, hung there in the air for a moment before falling heavily to the ground. He rolled, batting at the flames on his clothing, extinguishing them.

     “ _SADO!_ ” DragonClaw’s voice rang through the link and echoed off the buildings lining the avenue, the Paladin and the Knight casting shadows through the West Gate as the hill above them burned. The Hawkeye rose to one knee, drew another arrow and focused on the hill top. _That dark shape, what was it?_

     “I’m in town,” the man coughed, breathing evenly to control his heartbeat, “something was up there.” The smoke drifted away from the top of the hill, pushed by a fresh breeze from the sea, and the Hawkeye watched for movement. The hilltop was cratered and charred, now, gouged from the force of the Dwarven explosives. Flames swirled at the summit, extinguished by a circle of wind. That black robed figure still stood, unaffected by the blast. Sado released the arrow, the mithril quarrel flying true. An emaciated arm waved, and the arrow missed.

     The dark shape flickered again, disappearing from the hilltop.

      

***

      

     Shadowhyn found a platform, floating in the dark. Nifii sat cross-legged near its front edge, her wrists resting on her knees, her eyes closed. Her ears twitched as the Bishop knelt to sit before the platform, a small smile played across her face. “Here,” the Dark Elf began, “we can ask for answers.” She opened her eyes, “What will you ask Shilen?”

     Shadowhyn frowned, “Could I have saved Ulana? What task will she ask of me?”

     A glowing haze began to fill the air of the platform, behind the sitting Elder. She clasped her hands before her in prayer as the haze began to thicken, a great serpentine shape appearing in the swirling mists that surrounded the Dark Elf.

      

***

      

     “ _I think we have a problem_ ,” Sado said quietly through the link.

     “Thainn, what happened on the hill?” Droxanna called, pausing to bash a ghoul away with her shield. Lord Viper stepped in, splitting the creature in half with one of his swords. A blistering heat made sweat spring out on her back as Slifer melted an approaching pack of Undead. The Overlord took a moment to look across the field at the Siege Golem, saw it surrounded by these pitiful creatures.

     “ _I did’na see, lass._ ” The Warsmith responded, the great Golem spinning at the waist to face the hill, “ _Only th’ blast, like ye did_ ,” he added. The Golem turned back toward the fields, stomped on another group of attacking creatures. Skeletons had begun to clamber aboard, climbing up the Golem’s legs, hacking uselessly at its armor, attempting to interfere with its joints. Another stomp knocked them loose, the massive arms _clanking_ and _clunking_ upward, preparing to strike again. The Golem took another step forward, drawing closer to a rank of Doom Knights that approached. A _ka-chunk_ sounded from the insides of the Golem as its tension was loosed, the massive arms beginning their downward swing. The Guild members at the North Gate tensed, preparing for the overwhelming shock.

     A dark shape flickered into solidity in front of the Golem, directly in the path of its swing. “What is—” Slifer began, his words cut off when the gaunt figure raised its hand and gestured. A _crack_ echoed in the air as the Golem’s arms and torso disintegrated, a raging vortex blowing shards of steel plate and hardwood out the back of the mechanical construct, its springs and chains shattering Undead around it as their energies were set free.

     “What was— _THAINN!_ ” Lord Viper called, dashing toward the collapsing Golem, chopping through the milling throng. Droxanna called after the Destroyer, running after the other Orc. They disappeared beyond another mob of the walking dead.

     Slifer swore under his breath as Evilchrist muttered an oath in her native tongue. “Golem’s down,” the Sorcerer stated, burning another group of Ghouls, “Viper and Droxy went to get Thainn.”

     “ _Down?!_ ” DragonClaw yelled, “ _What happened?_ ”

     “ _What could have done that?_ ” Pendragon asked.

     “There was something there—” Evil began, looking at Slifer.

     “Yeah,” he added, “A mage of some kind destroyed it. _Easily_.” Evil pulled on the human’s shoulder, drawing him back to the North Gate. Large shapes were visible through the flickering fires that surrounded the Gate; more Undead approached. “We… we might need some help,” the Sorcerer said.

      

***

      

     Rhianwen chanted an incantation, a swift spinning swirl of water dancing around her feet before shooting forward in a heavy stream, blasting through the crowd of Skeletons; the force of the water breaking bones and shattering skulls. A thundering crash rang out from the North Road and the Spellsinger turned to look, saw debris from the Siege Golem still sailing through the air, watched the Undead heading toward their Gate begin to turn back toward the North. “Shinoa!” the Elf called, drawing the Blade Dancer’s attention.

     “Yes, Sister?” the Dark Elf replied, spinning with her blades held close, before dropping to a knee and thrusting her swords forward, splitting a pair of ghouls. She leapt again, dashing close to the Spellsinger to kick a ghoul away from the Elf.

     “Run to the North Gate, protect the mages.” Rhianwen said as she froze a clutch of Ghouls in shards of ice, “Mauldis and I will hold them off here.”

     Shinoa looked to the North, saw the great horde of creatures beginning to turn back, “I’m on my way.”

     “Wait!” Mauldis said, crouching as he held out his hands like a stirrup, “Here, get up on the wall.”

     Shinoa put a foot in the Orc’s hands and he heaved, tossing the Dark Elf high in the air. She landed lightly atop the wall and took off at a sprint. She covered the distance in a blur, lungs heaving as she pushed herself. She could see the North Wall ahead, the North Gate off to her left, and far beyond them both, the great cloud of dust from the broken Golem.

     A burst of flame washed up the outside of the North Wall and she leapt, spinning, feet arcing overhead before landing underneath another gout of white-hot fire. She lunged forward, toward the two mages, jumping over them to skewer the Ghouls that neared the Gate, bowling over a pack with her momentum. She landed, rolling, pulling her swords free to swing them down across the arms that rose to meet her, slicing dead limbs from dead bodies, turning to remove a leg, a face, to pierce the breastbone of a Ghoul as she vaulted over its head to split another Ghoul down the middle. She turned, sidestepped a slash, drove an elbow downward into the Ghoul’s neck. Shinoa lunged forward, low, arms outstretched, severing tendons and legs to fell the remaining Undead. She slid backward, close to the weakening Sorcerer.

     “You alright?” the Blade Dancer tossed over her shoulder, eyes out for targets.

     “Just need a moment,” Slifer said, breathing hard, “I’m not sure how much longer we can keep this up.”

     “I’ll buy you some time,” Shinoa said, grinning, “but I’ll save some for you.”

      

***

      

     “Sado, can you get back up on the wall?” Pendragon asked as he shoved, pushing a half-dozen Ghouls away with his Glaive, gaining the space he needed to swing it. He parted their skulls easily enough, but he was beginning to tire. He stopped to take a breath, Keos leaping into the pack before them, his blades flaring and snapping as he sliced through their bodies, the holy fire that wreathed his swords burning the Undead, setting their limbs aflame.

     “ _On my way up_ ,” came the response.

     Phoebus began another guttural chant, a purple flame burning in his hand. He began to raise the flame into the air, nearing the end of his war song. A black flickering motion drew Keos’ eyes, as a tall skeletal shape loomed behind the WarCryer. The Spellsinger threw one of his swords, yelled a warning, but he knew he was too slow. The dark-robed figure placed its hand against Phoebus’ back, uttered a single word: “ **Die.** ”

     The WarCryer’s body crumpled forward as his spine twisted, bones in his ribs and limbs snapping like dry tinder. Pendragon turned as Keos’ blade flashed past, his eyes widening at the horrific sound. The Spellsinger’s sword plunged into the black mage’s chest, and the emaciated wizard hissed. There was another black flicker, and Keos’ sword fell to the ground, the blade stained with tar and dust.

      

***

      

     Nifii shuddered in the presence of Shilen as the Dark Elven Goddess loomed over her. Shadowhyn stared at the great apparition, feeling a vague sense of familiarity. The Bishop bowed her head respectfully. A thunderous pressure swelled, causing both women to groan under its effect. Nifii spoke carefully, deferentially, “Shilen judged Her Daughter unable to survive the corruption forced upon her body, thus She took her. You could only prolong her agony, and then, not for long. Madness would have claimed you, soon after.”

     Shadowhyn hung her head and sighed, a few bitter tears falling from her emerald eyes. To know, _finally_. No longer to wonder if she’d done all that she could, if there was something _else_ she could have done to save her. While she still failed her dear friend, now she could begin to accept it. The red-haired woman nodded to the Dark Elf as she rubbed at her face.

     Nifii continued, “Shilen has preserved you to deal with this… Creature of Death. It was once one of Her Children. She would have you destroy it.”

     Shadowhyn had wondered if that was the case. “What can _I_ do? Why _me?_ ”

     A softer clap of pressure filled the darkness before the Dark Elf continued, “She saw the… risks you would take to preserve one of Her Children. She has no doubt that you will succeed. You have the key between you.” Shadowhyn looked up, confused. Nifii shrugged a little, said softly, “ _That’s how She put it, I’m just repeating it_.”

     Shadowhyn nodded, bowed her head again, “I thank you for this chance. And… thank you for ending my dear one’s suffering.” She paused, spoke again tentatively, “I… hated you for that, but I see now that I was wrong.”

     The women groaned again under the heavy pressure of Shilen’s words. Nifii nodded, “My Elder will aid you this day, _Fallaner_. You must hurry, before it… kills?… _more_ of your allies?!” The Dark Elf trailed off in horror, both women’s eyes opening wide.

      

***

      

     Mauldis laughed as the Ghouls lunged after him. The Tyrant shuffled skillfully backward, his Fists making short work of the Undead that trailed behind. He pivoted, lashing out with a right, dodging with a left, a forward lunge with an elbow, an uppercut; four Ghouls dropped with their heads caved in, or missing. A shadow fell over his shoulder and he twisted, skipping backward as the great carven blade of a Doom Knight swept through the air where he’d been standing, burying itself in the rocky ground. The Orc dashed forward, driving an elbow into the creature’s stomach where its armor was weakest, he slammed his fists on its shoulders, forcing it to its knees. His hands blurred as he pummeled it, armor breaking and reanimated bones shattering beneath his onslaught. He pulled the great sword from the ground and drove it through the Doom Knight’s back, pinning it to the ground.

     He turned, triumphant, his blood singing its own war song. Rhianwen’s voice rang out over the mob as a wall of water sprang up around her, pushing the Undead away with its rushing force. Skeletons and Ghouls were tossed in the waves, thrown against nearby tree trunks to break their bodies. She gestured again, chanting, and shards of ice impaled the nearby creatures, their bodies falling to pieces before the razor-sharp crystals.

     “ _Phoebus, behind you!_ ” Keos’ warning rang out over the Guild link, as a wet crunch echoed weakly in their ears. The Spellsinger gasped, turned to look toward the South Gate. Mauldis snapped a Ghoul in half over his knee, his face turning pale as he listened.

     “ _Phoebus is dead_ ,” Pendragon grunted, pushing back against the creatures as he tried to speak, “ _a mage killed him_ —Keos _get him inside the gate!_ ” Mauldis looked at Rhianwen, the Elf covering her mouth with her hands. She shook her head slowly.

     “ _Black robes, tall and thin?_ ” Sado asked. Rhianwen had lost her focus, didn’t notice the Ghouls approaching behind her. The Tyrant reached her side in a moment, bludgeoning a Ghoul with his elbow, kicking another into a tree. Mauldis put an arm around her waist, lifted her easily, gently moving her inside the Gate.

     “ _Yes, skeletal,_ ” Keos’ voice came over the link, “ _I threw my sword at his chest, and it was covered in a sticky black residue._ Not _blood._ ”

     “Rhianwen,” his voice rumbled in her ears, she heard him, she _saw_ him, she did, but she had to close her eyes, shake her head to say _No_. “Take a moment,” he said gently.

     Evil’s voice sounded in her ears, “ _That’s the one that destroyed the Golem_.”

     “But what about Thainn?” Rhianwen asked, dreading the answer, “DeeCee, what now?”

      

*****


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

     “ _Archers!_ Get your shield up!” Dadrabian bellowed at the Paladin when he saw the Undead bowmen crest the hilltop above them. He only had a moment to react as they prepared to fire down at the West Gate. DragonClaw had her back to the hill, engaged with a pair of Skeletons. The Knight ran to her side, shoving a warrior out of his way, getting his shield between the incoming missiles and the woman’s back. Several iron-tipped arrows pierced his shield, the dulled points _just_ breaking through to the inside. More quarrels struck his legs, her shoulder, their armor absorbing the shuddering blows.

     DragonClaw glanced up at the archers, saw them shift their stance, “Oh Gods, Nifii and Shadow!” The two healers were still engrossed in their meditation, a shimmering lace-like Construct hovering in the air between them. The Knight and the Paladin raced toward the mages, skidding to a stop before them, turning to face the flight of arrows.

     The West Gate was lost. Undead began to stream into the village unopposed. The Skeleton Archers loosed volley after volley into the Village, striking houses and buildings, breaking windows, piercing rooftops. Several arrows knocked lanterns loose, the fuel oil splashing down to soak the rough-hewn wooden walls, flames beginning to spread. Smoke began to fill the air as the West Quarter burned. A sharpened chunk of mithril flashed toward the rows of archers, and the hilltop was swallowed in a shuddering ball of flame.

     Shadowhyn and Nifii breathed deep, gasping as their trance ended. “Kills _more?!_ ” the Bishop exclaimed, “DeeCee, what’s been— _DeeCee!_ ” The Paladin had fallen to her knees beside the Bishop, arrows protruding from her shield, her left leg, her right shoulder and arm. Her breathing was labored, shallow gasps of pain as she bled. Dadrabian had collapsed before Nifii, sickly pale as blood poured heavily from the arrows through his stomach. The old Knight reached for her, worried that she had been struck, taking her hand when she grasped his.

     “Time—to—wake up,” the Paladin grunted, “We need—to move.”

     Nifii scoffed, “First things first, you fool!” She chanted a quick healing spell, stabilizing the Inn Keeper enough for him to get to his feet. He stood, with the Dark Elf’s help, and sheathed his sword, keeping his arrow-riddled shield in hand.

     Shadowhyn drew a Pattern with her right hand, long-practiced motions accompanying the incantation she uttered. She reached out toward the injured Paladin, waiting for her spell to take effect. Long seconds passed before she swore, hammering her fists in the dirt, “ _Why?!_ ”

      

***

      

     “ _Fall back—to the Temple_ ,” DragonClaw hissed through the link, “ _We failed to—hold the West Gate, but we need—hng—to protect the villagers_.”

     Rhianwen’s eyes snapped toward the Village Square; she could just make out the Paladin and her party down the western thoroughfare. The Spellsinger could see the small red-haired Bishop helping DragonClaw walk, the tall silver-haired Elder doing the same for Dadrabian. _How did they get hurt with_ two _healers nearby?_ No matter. They would make it through this. Having three to four Guild members at a Gate was a valid tactic, but this mystery mage— _capable of destroying a Siege Golem single-handedly!_ —was something they needed to deal with.

     “Mauldis!” she called, taking a few steps inside the East Gate. He glanced over his shoulder, saw her drawing symbols into the dirt. “Get in here, I’ll ice the Gate closed,” Rhianwen called, drawing a circle around her Pattern. She stepped inside the circle, began concentrating on the spell. Mauldis dashed back through the Gate as her Pattern began to glow, her spell beginning to take effect. She recited a small handful of syllables and raised her arms to the sky.

     Ice, clouded and thick, thrust upward from the ground with a grinding shriek, swallowing the East Gate on either side of the wall. The Tyrant had to take a few steps back as the ice continued to grow, soon a few paces thick, towering over the wall itself by a dozen spans.

     Nodding in satisfaction at her work, Rhianwen turned to see the Western side of the Village engulfed by a thick, black smoke, numerous fires dotting the buildings at the far side of town. She gasped at the sight, and Mauldis began to jog toward the Temple. “Come on,” the Orc called back to her, “We need to regroup!”

     The Elf ran after the Orc, catching up to him easily with her long, loping strides, thinking aloud, “We’ll need to get those fires put out… somehow.” He grunted in agreement, their pace quickly taking them to the Village Square. They angled to the south, the Temple visible above the rows of buildings and dwellings in the south-west. “There!” Rhianwen pointed, “Keos and Pendragon!”

     The Swordsinger and Warlord were visible at the South Gate, the human still holding the horde of Skeletons and Ghouls from entering the Village, his long Glaive filling the gap in the wall. Keos was several paces inside the Gate, struggling to pull the fallen WarCryer away from the entrance. Mauldis looked down at the Elf running alongside, asked, “Can you block that one too?” Rhianwen nodded. He sprinted toward the Gate, calling over his shoulder, “Get ready, then!” The Tyrant concentrated as he ran, muttering a string of Orcish words as spell-sigils on the back of his Fists ignited.

     Pendragon heard the footsteps behind him, stepped to the side and raised his Glaive to allow the Tyrant through. Mauldis plowed into the Ghouls amassed in front of the human, bringing his fists together on either side of one unfortunate creature’s head. A wild gout of flame erupted as his Dragon Grinders crushed the Ghoul’s skull, throwing the massed Undead away from the South Gate as rippling sheets of fire scored the earth around the Orc. His Fists continued to spout flames with every punch, the Tyrant lunging forward to strike blow after blow into the staggered horde.

     The Undead fell back as he pressed his attack, the Orc driving a wide gap into their ranks. Rhianwen drew her runes quickly, duplicating the symbols she had traced at the East Gate. She glanced over at Pendragon, nodded toward Keos once she had his attention, “I’m going to block the Gate with an Ice Wall,” she said as she drew the final circle around her Pattern, “Help Keos get Phoebus to the Temple… maybe something can be done?” He nodded, limping off toward the Swordsinger and his burden.

     “Mauldis!” she called, “I’m ready!” He nodded, spinning to face the horde once again, slamming his Fists together. Another powerful wave of fire lashed out at the creatures, setting bone and rotting flesh aflame. He pivoted and dashed back through the Gate, his large green-skinned feet crossing the threshold as ice swallowed the entrance. Within seconds, the South Gate was an impenetrable wall.

      

***

      

     DragonClaw nearly dropped her axe on the ground as she sagged to her knees, Shadowhyn groaning as the smaller woman tried to keep the heavily armored Paladin on her feet. “Almost there, DeeCee, I’m sorry—”, the Bishop grunted, “then we’ll—get those arrows out of you.” _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_ echoed in the red-haired woman’s head. She felt despair lurking in the back of her mind. She couldn’t get angry again, _What terrible thing would happen if I did?_ But the anger kept her self-loathing at bay, drowned out that small voice that pointed out her every lapse & failure. Her anger could be... convenient.

     The taller woman wheezed, almost a laugh, before looking down at her friend, “Don’t… it’s not— _ahh_ —your fault.” She tried to glare at the red-haired woman, “It’s my job—to protect you.” DragonClaw looked up, to see how close they were to the Temple yard. She really _was_ feeling terrible: feverish, yet chilled. She felt lightheaded, so she closed her eyes and stumbled alongside the Bishop.

     “I just—you had to leave the Gate to—”

     “To save my friends? I’d do it again,” DragonClaw ground her teeth, trying to bite back a groan, “We’re not out— _hss_ —of the fight yet, besides, I’ve had worse.” Shadowhyn scoffed at that, and the Paladin grinned, “See? You remember.”

     “Yeah, you have a bad habit of—oh, just around this corner,” Shadowhyn said, “We’re right there.” The door to the Temple stood before them, maybe twenty paces away. They had made it to the narrow-side entrance, the main, larger entrance further to the South on the long-side wall. The door was barred on the inside by the priests and villagers. They headed toward the main entrance, hoping to see the other Guild members arrive soon. Shadowhyn helped the Paladin sit down against the Temple wall, leaning against one of the buttresses. Dadrabian laid on the ground next to DragonClaw, Nifii kneeling next to him to examine the arrow wounds to his stomach. She snapped the fletches off one arrow, pulled him up on his side to push the arrow shaft out of his back, closing the wound with a quick spell.

     Shadowhyn saw the Pattern in her mind’s eye, muttered the incantation, invoking, “ _Envinyata_ ,” her eyes on her two injured friends. Nothing. She still felt… nothing. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the Pattern again, focusing on the mental image until sweat began to bead on her forehead, “ _Envinyata!_ ” She reached out, physically and mentally, without success. The Bishop stared down at her hands, spotted and stained with DragonClaw’s blood, and she began to shake, the color draining from her face.

     “Shadaera?” the Paladin said softly, struggling to sit up. Nifii looked up, saw the red-haired woman in distress, and placed a hand on her arm. A sizzling _snap_ numbed the Dark Elf’s fingertips as they touched the skin at Shadowhyn’s wrist, and she felt a strange pulling at her mind. A golden-yellow light flared in the palm of her hand as a bright white Construct appeared before the Bishop. Twin pillars of golden light burned the air around the Paladin and the Knight. The arrows in their bodies caught fire, turning to ash, their wounds disappearing at once. Both humans gasped at the rush of _wellness_ that surged through their bodies.

     Shadowhyn looked at Nifii, confusion written clear in her eyes. Nifii winced as she shook her head, and the Bishop covered her mouth with her hands, “Are you alright, Nifii?”

     “W-what happened?” DragonClaw asked, pulling Dadrabian to his feet.

     “She… well,” the Elder looked at the Bishop, “You took some of _my_ Mana to cast your spell,” she rubbed at the back of her neck, thinking.

     Shadowhyn asked again, “Are you ok? Did I hurt you? I-I didn’t mean—I didn’t know I could—” She crawled closer to the Dark Elf, trying to get a good look at the Drow’s eyes.

     Nifii laughed, “It’s ok, Shadaera,” she took the red-haired woman’s hands in her own, “It was different than the other times I’ve shared, but only because I wasn’t expecting it.” She stood, pulling the Bishop to her feet, “This is wonderful! I can _help_ you!”

      

***

      

     “Where _are_ they?!” Shinoa raged as she sliced through the arms of a Ghoul, spinning to kick it in the sternum, knocking it on its back. Slifer and Evilchrist grudgingly gave up ground, backing slowly through the North Gate; the Sorcerer’s flames sputtered and faded, the mages trying to conserve their Strength. “Droxy! Viper!” the Blade Dancer yelled through the link, “ _Where are you?_ We need to fall back!” Another clutch of Ghouls approached, and the Blade Dancer dashed forward to engage.

     “Shinoa, we need to get to the Temple,” Evil called, swinging her staff with both hands to knock a Skeleton down, Slifer stepping forward to separate its head from its body with the edge of his shield.

     “I have to rest, Shin, we don’t—we don’t have much left,” Slifer added, breathing heavily. “We can’t hold the Gate any longer without those two here,” he hated to admit as much.

     “But what—what will happen?” Shinoa rounded on the two mages, her amber eyes blazing in the fading firelight, “To what will we doom these villagers if we don’t hold here?” She faced the Undead horde and began to dance. She twisted and turned, she spun once, again, her swords flicking through the air as she moved. Slifer saw the Pattern as it was formed in the dirt before the Gate, her boots dragging and carving the earth. She leapt high in the air, landing on the farthest edge of her Pattern as it flared to life, a putrid green slime vomiting up from the ground; it coated the Gate, the wall, a good-sized portion of the North Road. The Blade Dancer turned back to the Sorcerer, hand outstretched, “I just need a spark, just _one_ ,” she pleaded, “and I can hold them here.”

     “Good luck,” Slifer said as he raised his hand.

      

***

      

     The great plume of fire cast harsh shadows across the Temple yard, brighter than the smoke-clouded afternoon sun; all their eyes were drawn to the roiling clouds of flame. They were only a street away from the Temple, but a gap in the buildings across the West Road afforded them a clear view. Rhianwen gasped at the inferno that swallowed the North Gate, covering her mouth with her hand as she stumbled to a halt. Keos and Pendragon slowed, the human resting against his Glaive as the Swordsinger quickly clambered up the side of a building. As the Elf stared down the Village thoroughfare, Mauldis turned back to the Spellsinger, carefully supporting his burden, “We’re almost to the Temple,” he nodded down at the WarCryer’s corpse, “we need to get Phoebus to safety.”

     “What have we done?” Rhianwen questioned softly as she followed the Tyrant, “We’re destroying the village!”

     Pendragon shook his head as he limped after the Elf, “The village can be rebuilt,” he gestured toward the Temple, “the people are what’s important.”

     Keos pointed toward the North Gate, his sharp eyes having noticed movement, “There! Slifer and Evil are inside the village!” He looked down at his Guild mates on the ground, “I’ll get them to the Temple, you three keep going.” The Elf unshipped his blades, steeling himself for action. “ _Selen_ ,” he called over his shoulder, catching the Spellsinger’s attention, “I know you can douse these flames.”

     Rhianwen smiled—almost a smirk—as she nodded, “Of course, _cousin_ , I’ll figure something out.” She waved to the other Elf as he dashed along the rooftop, leaping to the next building. She followed the Warlord and the Tyrant, their steady pace bringing them to the Gatekeeper’s Well. Dadrabian and DragonClaw stood in the Temple yard just beyond, the humans rushing over as soon as they caught sight of the three.

     “Are you injured?” Mauldis asked the two humans as he gently set the WarCryer’s body on the ground, giving a pointed look to their bloodied, pierced armor, “You didn’t sound good.”

     “Oh, we’re fine now,” Dadrabian said, with a shrug and a slightly embarrassed look. DragonClaw looked over her shoulder at a nearby row of houses as the Knight spoke again, “Shadaera healed us once we reached the Temple.”

     Rhianwen stepped forward, giving the Guild Leader a hard look, “And _why_ were you two injured? There were _two_ healers with you!” She waved at the buildings around them, at the sounds of the Undead that reached their ears, “Now we’re here because they didn’t—”

     “Shadaera can’t use her Sacred Arts,” DragonClaw interrupted, “We’re not sure why. She and Nifii were meditating,” She motioned at the state of her armor, “They hadn’t finished yet when the archers appeared.”

     “So how _did_ she heal you?” Pendragon asked as he knelt, settling down to rest his weary limbs. He soon gave up on sitting, and just laid on the ground with a groan.

     Dadrabian rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he glanced over his shoulder, the same direction that DragonClaw had looked earlier. “She, uh, _borrowed_ some Mana from Nifii. Since that worked, they took off to help get the others back here.”

     “You let her _leave?_ ” Rhianwen was furious, “Why are _you_ still _here?!_ ”

     Dadrabian and DragonClaw looked at each other, “Well— because— we—” they interrupted each other for a moment before the woman spoke again, “I said to regroup here.”

     Mauldis stood and looked at the Elf, then at the humans, “I think she’s wondering why you let two mages run off unprotected when there are Warriors and Archers wandering the streets.”

     Dadrabian pointed at the village behind him with his thumb, his voice slightly incredulous, “Did you forget who they are?”

     “Besides,” DragonClaw nodded, “I’ve got eyes on them.”

      

***

      

     Sado whistled a cheerful tune as he nocked another arrow, watched it pierce the skull of a helmeted Skeleton when he released, the unfortunate creature tumbling to a limp pile of bones on the ground. He pulled another arrow from his quiver, sighted, loosed, nodded as another Undead tumbled to the cobblestones. “ _How are my girls doing, Sado?_ ” DragonClaw’s voice came over the link. The Hawkeye continued to whistle as he glanced up the road, watched the Bishop and the Elder reach the village square, running hand-in-hand. There was a strange glow behind the Dark Elf’s head, _Some kind of Construct, I guess?_ as the Bishop pointed at a group of Skeletons just before they caught fire and vanished.

     “They’re fine, DeeCee,” the man replied, piercing another Ghoul skull from four hundred paces away. “Shadowhyn’s killing them faster than I am,” he sighed, launching a sharpened chunk of mithril at an Archer that stepped out of an alley behind the two women. A movement on the rooftop trailing behind the women drew his eye, and he began to sight an arrow before recognizing Keos’ silhouette. “They’ve got some backup.”

     “ _Oh?_ ” the Paladin sounded surprised.

     “ _Keos took off for the North Gate as soon as it caught fire_ ,” Mauldis added.

     “ _That’s good. Sado, do you see Slifer or Evil yet?_ ” DragonClaw asked, “ _Actually, where are you right now?_ ”

     “I’m close to the Village Square, South-West, but I’m going to have to move soon,” Sado coughed as a sea breeze pushed a billowing cloud of cinders and smoke into his face, “These fires are getting out of hand.” He squinted through the smoke, sending another quarrel through a shambling Ghoul, pinning it to the blacksmith’s workshop. He ran along the roof peak, taking a leap when he reached the edge, sailing across the alley to the top of Trader Jackson’s storefront. He looped a rope around the chimney and leaned out over the edge of the roof, getting a glimpse of the North Road. “I see them, yeah,” he said as he pulled himself upright, pulling another arrow from his quiver.

     “ _I need Slifer and Evil_ ,” Rhianwen said, “ _I think I know a way to put the fires out._ ”

     “That’s awesome, I’d hate to have my stuff burn down with the Inn,” Sado used his sarcastic voice, but he really _didn’t_ want to lose his other pair of boots. They were already broken-in and comfortable, it’d be a real shame if they were damaged.

     “ _The Inn!_ ” Dadrabian interjected, “ _Daria is there with the girls! Sado, how does it look?_ ”

     “The North-East corner of the Square is still pretty good,” the Hawkeye replied, “The fires at the North Gate might spread down here, but so far she’s lookin’ alright.” He thumbed the spell-sigil on his bow, his vision leaping forward to examine the Inn’s exterior. The windows were shuttered, and the door appeared to be barred and whole. “No signs of forced entry, at least from this side.”

     “ _Cover me?_ ” Dadrabian sounded like he was running, “ _I told Daria I’d get her to the Temple if we couldn’t hold the Gates._ ”

     “Will do,” Sado stood to get a better view of the square and the surrounding streets, “so far you’re clear. Just bear east _then_ north, you should be fine.” A brilliant disk of light illuminated the North Road, casting harsh shadows from the nearby buildings. “If you hurry, you can hitch a ride.”

      

***

      

     Slifer blocked the Ghoul’s swing with his shield, putting his shoulder into it, giving it a shove backward. He slashed at it with his sword, ineffectually. Evilchrist took a step away from the creature, giving it another shove with her staff. They turned back to the Village Square, plodded toward the Temple, but more Undead were approaching from the West Gate. He was tired, they both were, and from the looks of things they’d soon be cut off.

     They hadn’t made it far, only halfway to the Square when they were blocked. A large clutch of Ghouls had shambled onto the North Road, and they had to slow. “Think we can push through?” Evil panted, leaning against her staff as she glanced around for other openings.

     Slifer considered that for a moment, rushing the Ghouls to bash them aside with his shield. He shook his head, “No, I don’t think so, we—” Evil’s startled cry took him by surprise. A pair of Skeleton Warriors had leapt from the alley behind them, rushing at the mages. He barely got his shield around, but Evil couldn’t turn in time. The Warrior struck her with its shield, knocking her to the ground. She tried to roll away, to push it back with her staff, but the Warrior hacked and slashed down at her.

     “No!” Slifer yelled, driven back by the other Warrior’s attacks. He gestured at the Warriors, but was too weak to summon any flames. He swung his sword at the Skeleton, the Undead parrying his blade, and he had to jump back again as it almost slashed him across the chest. The Warrior harrying Evil had pinned her down with a foot across her throat, and raised its sword to gut her.

     “ _LEAVE!_ ” a woman’s voice rang out over the groans and clacking of the Undead, a shining yellow-white Construct searing the air behind the Ghouls. The Ghouls disintegrated, the Warriors covering their empty eye-sockets, cowering from the light before running away. Stunned that they were gone, it took the Sorcerer a moment to start moving. Slifer stumbled over to Evil, kneeling next to the injured Elder. She had curled up into a ball, gingerly holding her legs and stomach where the Warrior had slashed, flaying her down to the bone. She sobbed quietly as she struggled to breathe.

     Footsteps sounded close by, that brilliant light growing brighter. Shadowhyn and Nifii knelt next to Slifer, quickly appraising the fallen Elder’s condition. Strangely, the Bishop reached for her companion’s hand before tracing a Pattern with her right hand, “Envinyata!” Twin pillars of light surrounded the Sorcerer and the Drow, his exhaustion disappearing as the Sacred spell washed over him. Evil gasped again as her wounds drew closed, her flesh knitting together.

     “Up you get, Sister,” Nifii said, her cheerful voice forced as she pulled the other Dark Elf to her feet, steadying them both with her Lance.

     Slifer pulled her into a hug, whispered, “ _I’m sorry_ ,” as she shook her head against his shoulder, replying, “ _Not your fault_.”

     Shadowhyn picked up the staff Evil had dropped and handed to her. “Where’s Shinoa?” the Bishop asked, her voice growing worried, “Rhianwen said she was with you!”

     Slifer motioned toward the raging inferno at the North Gate, “She’s… she’s still out there. Holding them off.”

     “No!” Shadowhyn yelled, trying to run for the Gate. Nifii grabbed her arm, holding her back, stepping in front of the smaller woman. “Let me go, Nifii, I-I can’t lose her too!”

     “Shadaera! _Shadaera!_ There’s nothing we can do right now!” Nifii held the red-haired woman close, comforting her, “I’m sorry, but we need to put the fires out first.”

     The Bishop stared at the North Gate over Nifii’s shoulder, watched it burn. Her hands had curled into fists, her shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion. She took a deep, ragged breath, “Y-you’re right, let’s get these two to Rhianwen.”

      

***

      

     Keos slowed his dash when the Bishop’s Construct ignited, knowing well that his Guild Mates were no longer in any danger. He stayed alert, as he was still outside her Ward’s influence. He was close to the Inn, so he hopped down to a nearby balcony, vaulting its railing to land lightly on the ground. _Dadrabian should be here soon_ , he thought, deciding to wait for the Bishop’s group, and help escort them all to the Temple.

     He glanced over his shoulder at a strange noise, saw nothing, so he shrugged and turned back to watch the Village Square. A black shape loomed before him, mostly bone and sinew covered by a sandpaper flesh. A gaunt hand clamped around his throat, lifting his feet off the ground. “ **A sword through my chest is admirable, but not _nearly_ enough,** ” the deep, rasping voice grated in his ears before the world fell away in agony.

      

*****


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

     “KEOS! _No!_ ” The Hawkeye yelled, his arrow on its way the instant that black mage had appeared. He’d loosed a second and drawn a third before the Swordsinger’s twisted corpse had hit the ground. The first struck the dark wizard in the neck, _Too low!_ and the second sunk into the wall beyond the Elf’s body; that dark shape flickered and disappeared as it reeled with the first quarrel’s impact. “ _That mage just killed Keos_ ,” Sado whispered, eyes dancing as he tried to find where that shape would reappear. His skin crawled, he was exposed up here on the Trader’s roof.

     “ _What?!—No!—He was just—_ ” several different voices spilled through the link at once.

     Dadrabian ran across the Village Square, sword drawn and shield at the ready. He slowed as he approached the fallen Elf, glancing all about as he knelt next the body, gently touching the Swordsinger’s neck. After a moment, the old Knight carefully closed the Elf’s eyes. “ _I was right there_ ,” his voice came softly across the link, “ _not ten paces away... It’s not right that he died alone._ ”

     “ _We’re on our way there, stay alert_ ,” Slifer said through the link. Sado could see the Bishop’s Warding moving down the North Road toward the Inn, the nearby Undead fleeing from its Holy light.

     Dadrabian pounded his fist on the Inn’s door. It held quite still, Daria must have barricaded it well. “Daria!” he yelled, “We need to get you and the girls to the Temple!” He stepped back from under the balcony as a casement opened on the second floor, his sister poking her head out to look down at him.

     “Why? What’s happened?” she asked, then got a better look at the state of his armor, “ _Are you ok?!_ ”

     “I’m fine! We weren’t able to hold the Gates, we need to get you to safety,” he said, “You’ve got the girls with you?” When she nodded, he held up his arms, “Throw me a couple blankets. We… I don’t want them to see this.”

     She looked worried, but did as he asked, tossing a pair of thick woolen blankets out the window. “I’ll get the girls ready to go,” she said, preparing to close the window.

     “Quick as you can,” the knight urged, looking up the road as the four mages approached, “Our escort is here.” He set to work, laying one blanket out on the ground, rolling Keos onto his stomach to sheath his swords. He got into position at the Elf’s head, getting a good grip on the straps inside the neck hole of Keos’ armor. He began to lift, but paused as Slifer and Evilchrist wordlessly grabbed the Elf’s legs, helping the Knight lift the body onto the prepared blanket. After getting his arms in place, the three began to roll the Elf’s corpse into the makeshift shroud.

     Dadrabian slung his shield over his shoulders before stooping down to lift the body, laying it over his left shoulder, keeping his right hand free if he should need his sword. He handed the spare blanket to Evil, muttered, “This is for Phoebus.” He turned to see the Bishop covering her face, shaking her head. She looked small, more so than normal. He couldn’t think of anything to say, and Nifii had already put an arm over the red-haired woman’s shoulder, so he turned back to the door of the Inn.

     A window next to the door slid open instead, and Daria poked her head out. She had a somewhat embarrassed grimace on her face, “We blocked the door so well, we can’t get it open.”

     Dadrabian laughed, motioned to her with his free hand, “We’ll take care of that later, come out that way.” She ducked back inside, Joan appearing in the window after a moment. The Inn Keeper held up his hand to the young dwarf, and Slifer jumped forward to lend another hand. Once the dwarf was on the ground, Lydia poked her head out, her face turning various shades of pink as the two men helped her out of the window.

     Daria came out last, dropping a bow and quiver on the ground before twisting around to pull the window shut behind her. She had changed out of her Inn Keeper’s garb, was now dressed in simple leather armor. As the three villagers looked around, they gasped at the signs of the Guild’s struggle. The sun was a dim, yellowed disk hiding behind thick clouds of black smoke that rose from multiple places in the North-West of town. Several Undead had been killed nearby, notably that Ghoul pinned to the side of the forge by an arrow through its head.

     Joan caught sight of the Bishop, turned to tug on Lydia’s arm before the pair ran over to see the older woman. She still had her face in her hands when they approached, and Nifii whispered something in her ear. She wiped at her face, donning a smile as she hunched down to give both girls a hug. “I’m so glad you two are safe,” Shadowhyn said.

     “Lady Truthbearer was taking care of us,” Lydia said, glancing around before leaning close to whisper, “ _She let us have some cake!_ ” Shadowhyn laughed at that, Nifii covering her mouth as she tried not to let on that she’d heard.

     “And how is Shinoa?” Joan asked, frowning a bit as she watched the red-haired woman’s expression shift to something close to panic. The young dwarf glanced at her friend before looking up at the tall Dark Elf, who also looked concerned.

     “She, uh…” Shadowhyn stood up and looked toward the North Gate. Her hands began to shake as she watched the fire lick up the stone wall, the wooden frame of the Gate and the parapet burning bright and steady. She couldn’t see anything out the Gate, save for the flames. She stared until Nifii stepped in front of her, gently taking the red-haired woman’s face in her hands.

     The Dark Elf lifted the human’s chin, smiling when Shadowhyn’s eyes focused on hers. “Let’s get these younglings to the Temple, then we’ll see about getting Shinoa.”

     Shadowhyn bit her bottom lip and nodded. She looked at her small group, the other mages, the Truthbearers, and the girls. _They need me right now_. She glanced up at the dull orange Construct above her head, _That will fade soon_ , she thought as she released her hold on it. The shining circle faded, the elaborate runes flickering as they vanished. Nifii held out her hand, offering, before Shadowhyn could reach out to ask. The red-haired woman looked up at her friend and smiled, “Thank you for your help.” Nifii nodded, and the Bishop closed her eyes to concentrate. She traced a Pattern in the air before her, drawing on the Elder’s strength, muttering, “ _Querna guina_ ,” and that same brilliant disk flared in the air above her.

     Dadrabian stepped forward to place a gentle hand on the small woman’s shoulder before glancing up at the Trader’s roof across the square, “How do we look, Sado?”

     “ _All clear_ ,” the Hawkeye replied, his voice echoing slightly from several different links, “ _There had been a few Ghouls heading your way, but they just turned around._ ”

     “Alright, follow me everyone,” The old Knight turned to face the group, “The Undead won’t bother us as long as Shadaera’s turning them away, but let’s not dawdle either.” He adjusted his grip on the awkward bundle thrown over his shoulder, and started off toward the Temple at a jog.

      

***

      

     Rhianwen tried to rest, to clear her mind, but it was hard to ignore the sounds of the others holding off these foul creatures. It wasn’t as bad as before, if she was honest with herself. The Undead weren’t piling into the Temple yard, as they had been at the Gates. _So maybe it’s not a fair comparison_ , she said to herself. She wasn’t sure how many of them were coming in through the West Gate, but only a few had managed to come down this way. _If they break through my ice, we’ll be in trouble…_ Worse _trouble_.

     DragonClaw watched Mauldis punch the head off a Ghoul, and had to laugh. She held her axe out to the Tyrant, the Orc clanging one of his Grinders against it in salute. She glanced over her shoulder to check on her other people: Rhianwen meditated a few paces away, Phoebus’ body in repose behind her, Pendragon guarded the avenue leading to the South Gate.

     She turned back at the sound of footsteps. Several Skeletons came running in to the Temple Yard, fleeing something behind them. They watched over their shoulders, their swords and shields lowered. The Paladin didn’t mind if they didn’t have a chance to fight back, it made things easier. She backhanded one with her shield, knocking it down, chopped another down with her axe. The Tyrant grabbed two by their heads and smashed them together, as she stomped the skull of the one on the ground. “What were they running from?” Mauldis mused.

     “ _Her_ , most likely,” DragonClaw answered.

     Dadrabian jogged into the Temple Yard, sword in one hand, a large blanket-wrapped bundle on his other shoulder. Shadowhyn and Nifii followed the Knight, a golden Construct slowly rotating above the Bishop’s head. The blacksmith and the trader’s daughters jogged after the healers, Daria behind the girls with her bow at the ready. Slifer and Evilchrist brought up the rear, looking fine despite their disheveled clothing. A hollow _thump-thump-thump_ signaled the Hawkeye’s approach, the man leaping from a rooftop to the Village Wall overhead.

     Rhianwen stood and hurried to the two mages, “I have an—are you two alright?” she interrupted herself as she caught sight of their bloodied robes.

     Slifer nodded and Evil grasped the hand the Spellsinger held out to her, “Yes,” the Elder said, “We’re fine, Shadowhyn and Nifii found us in time.” The Elf motioned at Drow’s robes, and the Dark Elf sighed, “It had just happened, so it… only hurt for a moment.” Rhianwen frowned as she pulled Evil in for a quick hug.

     “I’m glad you’re safe,” the Spellsinger stepped back to look at them both, “I have an idea for putting out these fires.” She began to draw a Pattern in the dirt as Slifer and Evil stooped to watch.

     The old Knight sheathed his sword as he walked over to where Phoebus lay. He knelt next to the WarCryer, to lay the Swordsinger’s body down. Pendragon grabbed the end of the blanket roll, steadying the corpse as Dadrabian rolled it off his shoulder, and the two men set one fallen friend next to the other. “I have a blanket for Phoebus,” the Inn Keeper said, “I’ll go get it from Evil.” The Warlord nodded, standing there to wait while keeping an eye on the avenue to the South.

     Dadrabian returned with the other blanket, unwrapping it as he walked, snapping the wrinkles out of it. He laid the blanket out next to the WarCryer, and the two men began to roll Phoebus’ body into the shroud. Once wrapped, they pulled the body back to lie next to Keos, sweating and swearing the while. “He didn’t… look… that heavy,” the Knight gasped. Pendragon didn’t reply, he just sank to his knees and groaned.

     Soft footsteps sounded close by, and the shifting, dazzling light growing brighter let Dadrabian know who it was before she knelt next to him. Shadowhyn pulled up on the end of the blanket roll, exposing Keos’ face. _Oh… Keos._ His muscles had slackened, easing the surprised grimace that Dadrabian had seen moments after his death. The Elf looked peaceful, now. The Bishop stared down at his face, gently touching his cheek with her hand. She looked at the Knight, and he stood, stepping back, giving her room. She slid to the other blanket, lifting the layers of wool to reveal Phoebus’ face. _Phoebus, I’m so sorry_. He could have been asleep. She slid back toward Keos, settling between the two corpses. _Because of me… they…_ She bowed her head, one hand on each of their foreheads, and whispered, “ _I’m… so sorry… this is all my fault... I’ve failed you all._ ”

     Pendragon raised an eyebrow as he watched her, looked at Dadrabian and frowned. The Knight shrugged imperceptibly, glancing over at the sound of more footsteps. Nifii stopped behind Shadowhyn, off to the side. She laced her fingers around the haft of her Lance, quietly watching the red-haired woman. _We haven’t the time, and Shadaera’s not_ able _to raise them_ , she thought to herself _._ She looked at the Knight, catching his eye, gave him a slow shake of her head. He nodded, knelt next to the Bishop and sighed, placing a hand on her back.

     “Don’t,” he said softly. She inhaled, sharp and quick, before slowly turning to look at him. He could see the conflict in her eyes. “Don’t worry... Don’t shoulder the blame... Don’t be afraid,” he added, each phrase causing a new range of emotions to play across her face. He smiled, rubbed her back, whispering, “ _Don’t think you’re alone_.”

     She looked at him, her bottom lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes. She nodded before laying her head on his shoulder. “ _You always know what to say_ , _old friend_ ,” she whispered. He put his hand around her shoulder and rubbed the side of her arm.

     DragonClaw watched Dadrabian and Pendragon wrap Phoebus’ corpse before she turned to Daria and the girls. “My apologies,” the Paladin said, rubbing the back of her neck with a gauntleted hand, “I should have had you brought here before the Gates were lost.”

     Daria waved her hand in dismissal, “Not to worry,” she placed one hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder and placed her cheek on Lydia’s head, “The girls helped me get the Inn sorted, and we were safe enough at the time.” She dropped her smile, nodding gently toward the Guild members gathered around the wrapped bodies, “I’m sorry about your men.” She glanced around quickly before leaning closer to the Paladin, whispering, “ _Why hasn’t Shadaera raised them?_ ” The girls looked up at the Paladin, curiosity clear on their faces.

     DragonClaw shook her head, her expression grim, “She’s… having difficulties today.” She glanced over her shoulder, saw the Bishop resting her head against Dadrabian’s shoulder as Nifii stood close-by. “At the best of times, it’s a lengthy process… Now might not be the best time for it, even if she could.”

     Rhianwen and Slifer walked over to DragonClaw as Evil took a seat on the ground in front of the Patterns they had etched in the dirt. “Pardon me, Ladies,” the Elf said cheerfully, placing a hand on the Paladin’s shoulder, throwing a grin and a wink to the girls. She looked at DragonClaw, “Slifer and I are going to summon a thunderstorm. That should help put the fires out.” Rhianwen nodded toward the meditating Elder, “Evil will be our conduit.”

     The Paladin looked surprised _and_ impressed, not an easy feat. “Wow, not what I expected, but yes. Do it!” She grinned, showing teeth, clenched a fist, “Make it rain!” The two mages laughed for a moment, but Slifer quickly grew serious.

     “This might take a while, and the storm could go out of control,” the Sorcerer cautioned. He turned slightly, waving a hand at the complex circles of symbols on the ground, “This magic, this… ‘Elemental Symphony’, it’s dangerous at best.”

     Rhianwen nodded, “We may be trading one force of Nature for another.”

     Daria held out her hand, grasping the Spellsinger’s wrist gently, “We would rather be wet than burnt,” she said firmly, “and I think everyone in that Temple would agree with me.” She motioned over the wall, toward the lighthouse, “This close to the sea? We get bad storms all the time. We can handle that.” She tilted her head to the North, “But that inferno? That we _can’t_.” The girls beside her nodded.

     “Please, Lady Rhianwen,” Lydia said shyly, “if-if you can, please, bring the storm.”

     The Spellsinger placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, giving her a gentle smile, “We will do our best.” Rhianwen glanced up at Daria, “You three may want to get inside before it starts to rain.” She stepped back, waved at the three villagers before turning away with the Sorcerer walking alongside.

     DragonClaw turned back to Daria, and nodded, “She’s right, they’re probably going to conjure up something bad, let’s get you to shelter.”

      

***

      

     The Paladin, the Proprietress, and the shopkeeper’s daughters had only walked a few paces when that dark shape flickered into solidity in the Temple yard, the black mage’s robes hissing and smoking in the Bishop’s Warding light. It stood between them and the Temple doors. The tall apparition looked at the three mages sitting in their glowing Patterns and laughed, its voice the rasp of gravel underfoot. It turned its gaunt, skeletal face toward the red-haired woman, its dried, paper-thin skin splitting as it smiled. Its eyes were hidden by the hood of its long black robes, but its jagged, cracked teeth glittered in its hideous grin. The hand holding its long, carved blackwood staff was thin, not much more than bones covered by pale-white leathery skin.

     The Knight leapt to his feet, shrugging his shield from his shoulders and drawing his sword, stepping between the Bishop and the Black Mage. The Paladin drew her axe, motioning Daria and the girls to stay behind her. The Warlord leveled his Glaive at the strange creature, Nifii held her Lance up with one hand while pulling Shadowhyn to her feet with the other. The Tyrant stepped between the dark shape and the three summoning the storm. The Bishop shivered, hissing, “The Ancient One!” She flinched as her eyes met its milky, dead gaze.

     “ **You do well to stand your ground,** ” the Black Mage uttered, his voice the creaking of a gallows rope, “ **I am willing to barter with you, to save us all some… difficulties.** ” He swept his free hand magnanimously and bowed a hair, easy movements with the courtly grace of a ruler deigning to address his subjects. A light pattering rain began to fall, the Temple torches hissing as the droplets turned to steam.

     “ _We’re not, right?_ ” Sado’s voice hissed over the Guild link, echoing slightly through the Temple yard, “ _You’re not seriously going to—_ ”

     “What are you? What do you want?” DragonClaw asked, her voice bold and steady, despite the fear churning in her stomach. She had the girls behind her, _I’m not sure—how can I keep him from them?_ but it looked as though her Guild mates had taken steps to protect each other.

     “ **Once I was a Necromancer, but now I am something... _more_ ,**” He bared his teeth in a ghastly rictus, “ **As for what I want? I would trade one familiar—** ” he motioned with his free hand, and Lysander appeared next to him, the boy pale and disheveled, flesh on his face and arms still burnt and bloodied from the Bishop’s Wards that morning.

     “Lysander, no!” Lydia cried, lunging forward, Daria and Joan catching her arms, “He’s got my _brother!_ ” DragonClaw swore under her breath as she held her shield out, placing herself between the dark creature and the girls.

     “What have you done to the boy!” Dadriabian growled, anger pounding in his veins.

     “No!” Shadowhyn yelled, starting to push her way forward, “not the—”

     “ **—for another,** ” the Ancient One pointed at the Bishop, and her blood ran cold. The Construct above her head flashed and disappeared, fear gripping her mind, her concentration broken, its absence plunging the Temple yard into momentary darkness. A pair of mithril arrows pierced the air to sink deep into the Black Mage’s chest and neck. The Mage gestured toward the Temple roof and a pair of wicked, white bones split the air with a _crack_ as they sought the Hawkeye. “ **Fool** ,” he ground his teeth, “ **Are you _all_ so foolish?** ”

     “ _Don’t attack!_ ” DragonClaw bellowed, Dadrabian and Pendragon freezing in their tracks.

     Mauldis didn’t hear, or _chose_ not to hear. The Tyrant roared as he bound forward, Fists ready to pummel the strange magician. The Ancient One looked at the Orc, and another burst of bleached bone knocked him down. Mauldis was struck in the leg and an arm, crippled as bone split bone; a third projectile tearing through his stomach to strike Evilchrist in the chest. The Elder fell slowly backward, the Construct linking her to Slifer and Rhianwen shattering as she died, the Sorcerer and the Spellsinger savaged by her severed magic.

     The sky above the Temple bubbled, blackened, and swirled; dark clouds forming and swelling as the carefully summoned storm escaped its leash. A roar filled their ears as a furious wind howled, rattling the casements on the buildings nearby. A double _crack_ of thunder followed a blinding spiders-web of lightning, and the sky began to pour a terrible rain.

     “Evil, _no!_ ” Nifii yelled, running to the other Elder’s side, dropping her Lance as she slid to her knees, checking her for signs of life. Her hands flew to her neck, her wrists, but she found nothing. She clawed through the thickening mud, checking first the Spellsinger then the Sorcerer, their pulses weak but steady. They groaned as she rolled them, keeping their faces out of the flowing water.

     Pendragon took a quick step back, kneeling next to the broken Orc. He held his Glaive at the ready as he hissed, “ _That was stupid!_ ” Mauldis nodded in agreement as he curled up to cradle his injuries.

     The Black Mage laughed as the storm hammered the earth with its rain, the fat drops of water pounding the grass and dirt. “ **One last time,** ” he hissed as he grabbed Lysander by the neck and tossed the boy to the ground before him, “ **will you trade?** ” Lydia tried to run to her brother, but Daria held her still.

     Shadowhyn was exposed. Her hands shook as she glanced around, desperate for support. But Shinoa had never been there, Nifii left to check the other mages, and even Dadrabian had walked away from her. She quailed at a crack of thunder, the rain pummeled her skin. She shivered as the raging wind chilled her bones. The red-haired woman turned, slowly, to look at the Paladin. DragonClaw saw her, met her eyes, watched the Bishop nod and whisper, “ _Do it_ ,” then turned back to the Ancient One.

     “I will _not_ trade,” DragonClaw answered, brandishing her axe. The Bishop’s mouth fell open in horror, her mind gripped with terror, unwilling to watch what she _knew_ would happen next. Her eyes darted about, looking for an escape.

     The dark shape threw its head back and laughed, then grated, “ **So be it.** ” As the Black Mage raised its hand toward the Paladin, Shadowhyn sprinted away, slipping and sliding down a nearby alley. The Ancient One lowered his hand as he watched her leave, then grinned at the Paladin before vanishing in a flickering darkness.

     “Dadrabian!” DragonClaw yelled, “Get them to the Temple!” she motioned to his sister and the girls as she slid over to Nifii, “Try to patch up Mauldis, then help them get this storm under control!” she yelled at the Elder, motioning to the prone magicians as another rumble of thunder tried to swallow her words.

     “Where are you going!” Pendragon bellowed, his scarred face illuminated by another tree of lightning.

     “After that red-haired fool!” DragonClaw’s reply was lost to the storm’s fury.

      

***

      

     She ran. She didn’t know where she would go, _could_ go. _They_ could be anywhere. _They_ could be _here_ , _Maybe they’re behind me!_ She turned to look over her shoulder, but the street was empty, aside from the rain, and the thunder. _That_ was everywhere. She was alone again. Maybe she could find Shinoa? _Yes!_ Maybe she was dead. _No! She can’t be dead!_ She still didn’t know where to go, she stumbled and slid when she reached the end of the alley, grabbing a railing to keep from losing her feet in the mud. She turned left because, just _because_ , she just _did_. The storm must have put out the fires, because it was dark, and she couldn’t see anything, couldn’t see where she was going. Her Construct was gone, and it wouldn’t be back, because she was _alone_.

     She felt eyes watching her from the dark, _dead_ eyes, eyes that wouldn’t shine in the dark until they were too close, _Where is he?!_ maybe the fires were better because she could actually see him. She stumbled again, her feet slipping, pitching her forward onto the muddy cobblestones. She looked up, could _just_ see the fountain in the Village Square. The amulet at her neck pulled her down, it was so heavy it must weigh a dozen pounds. It hurt her neck, her chest, to wear it, why didn’t she take it off? She was so tired, it felt like she hadn’t slept in days. She pushed against the ground, groaning as she fought to slide her feet under her, to get her legs moving again. She crawled until she could get up, lurching forward until she stumbled against the waist-high wall around the fountain.

     Lightning cracked the sky above her, throwing the shambling creatures near her into stark relief, then hiding them in blackness. She was too close, maybe surrounded. She needed to move, but her legs refused to listen. They were too loud, everything pounded in her ears, her heartbeat, her breathing, _their_ breathing, so she covered her ears with her hands and pressed her fingers into her skull.

     Heavy footsteps pounded down the street toward her as DragonClaw charged, shield before her like a battering ram. She slammed the nearest Ghoul away, crushing it brutally against the stone fountain wall, dismembering one with her axe, and another with her backswing. She backed into the Bishop, pushing the red-haired woman away from the remaining Undead. “Shadaera, _wake_ _up!_ ” the Paladin snapped, speaking loudly over the thundering rain.

     “ _Why!_ Why didn’t you trade me?!” Shadowhyn wrapped her arms around herself, rocked by another gust of wind, “I didn’t want anyone else getting hurt!” Her mud-caked boots slipped on the cobbles and she fell to her knees in the mud, the rain pounding her limbs, making it hard to think, to feel. “I… I can’t…”

     “ _Stop it!_ ” the Paladin yelled, rounding on the smaller woman, “What guarantee did we have?” She waved her axe toward the North Gate, the debris of the Siege Golem laying beyond, “You _saw_ what he can do!” She knelt in front of the red-haired woman and grabbed the front of her robes, “He wants _you_ for some reason, but we can’t just _give_ you to him!”

     “ **You _should_ have, Paladin,** ” the Black Mage had found them, stepping out of the gloom. DragonClaw turned to face him, shielding Shadowhyn from him. An icy chill gripped her stomach, but she had one last hand to play. She began to concentrate on a spell, mouthing the words softly. As she ended her incantation, she stepped back, as close to the Bishop as she could. A rushing wind surrounded the two women as a cloud of stars flared around her, the points of light tracing a giant’s shape around her body: an ethereal suit of armor encased them both.

     She could see the Ancient One sneer as her brilliant armor chased the darkness away. DragonClaw recited another incantation and a yellow-gold Construct appeared above her head, flashing the rain to steam, the nearby Ghouls to ash, and setting the Black Mage’s robes aflame. He raised an arm to cover his clouded eyes, shying back from the light. “We won’t have much time, Shadaera, get ready to run,” DragonClaw yelled back to the red-haired woman wrapped in her defensive spell.

     Shadowhyn stared at the Black Mage, muttering a spell under her breath, holding a hand out toward the dark creature, “ _namba en’ Arvandor_ ,” invoking it again, and again. “ _Namba en’ Arvandor!_ ” She fell silent as the heavens refused to rain holy fire, the hopelessness of her situation finally sinking in. She cowered behind the Paladin, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

     “Don’t be afraid,” DragonClaw said, gently, “Don’t give up, Shadaera.” She watched as the Ancient One approached, his skin hissing in her Construct’s Holy light. “I have faith in you,” she said softly, over her shoulder.

The Paladin readied her axe, waiting for him to approach, “I’ll shackle you yet, Magician!” she spat, fury for her fallen in her eyes. The Black Mage laughed quietly to himself as he waved his hand, and her holy armor parted like water around a blade. She felt a strange pressure in her chest as her breastplate tore open, the Village melting away as the light above her faded.

      

***

      

     Sado dangled from the rope tied around his waist, thinking he should pat himself on the back. He had one arm wrapped around the cord stretched above his aching head, while the other hand was busy trying to cut this _flaming_ knot loose, so congratulations would have to wait. He shook the rainwater from his face, wrapped another loop of rope around his wrist. He didn’t usually bother with jury-rigging a safety harness, _But these are… exceptional circumstances_. And his paranoia paid off. When those cursed bones had been flung at him, he only had time to move, and move quickly. He’d leapt backward off the Temple roof and managed to knock himself out when he swung into the thick stone wall. _Good thing it was the far side of the Temple where no one could see_.

     Something had happened in the yard while he was unconscious, and he knew they needed him back in position. The wet, knotted cord finally parted with a _snap_ , and he swung wildly for a moment before he got his boots on the Temple wall. He kicked off the stones, pulling at the same time, launching himself to the rooftop. He landed lightly and ran to the yard-side edge of the roof, looking down at the chaos below.

     The Temple door stood open, the flickering torchlight from inside shining out into the dark rain-soaked yard. Mauldis was surrounded by a small mob of Priests, several small Healing Constructs shining around his body. Rhianwen and Slifer were laid out on the muddy ground side by side, blue and red Constructs shining above their chests as Nifii knelt at their heads, her hands resting on their faces, a third golden-yellow Construct glowing in the air behind her head. Another sheet-covered corpse lay beside the WarCryer and the Swordsinger, a large red stain at the chest. Dadrabian and Pendragon stood at arms, dispatching the Undead that wandered in to the yard, Daria helping with that shortbow of hers. Those two girls were huddled around another figure laying in the mud, another teenager? _Must be the brother_ , though he looked to be in rough shape. A priest and another man were with them, Sado guessed it was Trader Jackson based on their body language.

     The Hawkeye glanced around, counting heads, realizing who must be under that bloodied sheet next to Phoebus. He closed his eyes, rubbed at the bridge of his nose while he said a quick prayer for the departed. “Daria!” he yelled, waving his arm to get the petite woman’s attention. Her eyes snapped up to the roof, and she smiled when she caught sight of him. He tossed the end of the rope down to the ground, braced his feet, “Get up here,” he called, “I can use your eyes!”

     She nodded, slipping her bow over her head & shoulder as she ran for the rope, looping it around one arm several times before planting her feet on the Temple wall. He pulled, and she walked, the blonde scaling the wall in a matter of seconds. She grasped his hand when he reached for hers, and she gave him a quick hug once her feet were firmly on the roof. “I didn’t know if you were dead or not,” she said with a grin, “I’m glad you’re _not_ , you still have a tab at the Inn.”

     He scoffed, and she laughed, but he grew serious as he nodded toward the bloodied sheet, “What happened to Evilchrist?”

     She frowned, remembering, “It all happened so fast. Mauldis leapt at that _thing_ , and the bones it summoned went through him and struck her in the chest.” She shook her head as she slid her bow from her shoulder, pulling an arrow from her quiver, “She was dead before she hit the ground,” she nodded up at the dark sky, that blinding rain still falling, “and they lost control of their storm.”

     “ _I hear something coming_ ,” Nifii called through the link, surprising the two archers, as well as the humans guarding the western approach, “ _Footsteps, lots of them? It’s hard to make out with this rain._ ”

     “ _You keep working with those two_ ,” Dadrabian replied, “ _Get the storm under control, we’ll keep them off your back._ ” The Knight and the Warlord faced the west avenue, Pendragon taking the right side to cover more ground with his Glaive, as Sado and Daria nocked arrows, ready to draw.

     Shinoa emerged from the downpour, her amber eyes glowing in the rain-shrouded torchlight, her blades in hand, followed close behind by Droxanna. The Blade Dancer slowed to stand next to the old Knight, gasping for breath, nodding a greeting to him and the Warlord, before turning, her eyes focused on the avenue they had just travelled. The Overlord had her axe stowed at her hip, both arms up to support a strange burden on her shoulders. “Thainn!” Dadrabian exclaimed, laughing in surprise, “You were able to reach him, excellent!”

     She nodded to the Knight as she passed, walking carefully into the Temple yard, gently supporting the Warsmith. The Dwarf had been strapped to a large piece of wood or metal, it was hard to tell which it was in the rain. She stood next to Mauldis, to be near the group of Priests, and the Tyrant held one end of her burden with his uninjured arm, allowing her to ease out from under Thainn, the two Orcs setting him down gently.

     One of the Priests knelt next to the Overlord, holding a torch over the prone Dwarf. “He may have broken his back when the Golem fell,” Droxanna said, putting a hand to his throat to check his pulse, “He wasn’t able to move when we found him,” she motioned to the ropes tied around his body and the piece of decking, “so we tried to keep him still.” She shook her head, embarrassed, “I’m… not sure when he lost consciousness. We were… occupied.”

     The Priest patted her on the shoulder, “You did well,” he said, “We’ll do what we can.”

     Shinoa pointed a sword down the west avenue, “Lord Viper is just up ahead,” she began, “We tried to keep them from following us, but it didn’t work. We’ll have company soon.” She looked around, “Where’s DeeCee?” She grew worried, “Where’s Shadaera?!”

     Dadrabian looked concerned, “Haven’t you heard what’s been going on?” He waved a hand at the small Construct at the back of his neck.

     She frowned, shook her head, “Our links faded once we got near the Golem wreckage,” She turned to look at the Temple yard for the first time, her eyes widening as she saw the wrapped bodies, the mages laid out before Nifii. She stepped close to the Knight, her gaze intense, “Dadrabian, where _is_ she?”

     “Shadaera ran off, to keep him from killing anyone else,” the Knight answered, “I don’t know where she is.” He looked crestfallen, “I’m sorry.”

     She shook her head again, her teeth bared, “No, I _will_ find her.” She called over her shoulder, “Droxanna! Help Viper, I’m going to look for Shadowhyn and DragonClaw.” She looked at the Knight and the Warlord, nodded back at the others in front of the Temple, “Keep them safe until I return.” The young Dark Elf disappeared into the thundering rain.

      

*****


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

     The oppressive rain fell in heavy sheets; the thick, roiling clouds blotted out the sun as a torrent of gloom poured itself over the village. She knelt in the muddy square beside DragonClaw’s body, her hands clutching at her temples. Lightning split the sky overhead, and the peal of thunder chasing after it swallowed her sobs. She wept, her tears hidden by the icy rain that pelted her skin. “ _Why?!_ ” the woman screamed, doubling over in her grief, bruising the sides of her fists on the fallen Paladin’s armor as she lashed out in blind anger. “Einhasad, _why?!_ ” Shadowhyn choked back a cry as a flailing fist splashed filthy water into her face. Abruptly sitting upright to claw at her stinging eyes, the Bishop groaned at the pain of jostling her still tender left arm.

     The woman held her head back, letting the rain stream over her face, feeling her tears well up in her eyes. Biting her lower lip as she massaged her arm, Shadowhyn scrubbed at her face, trying to wipe away the mud and gore. She rocked back and forth on her knees, desperately grasping for any semblance of reason that she could find. The dark amulet hanging around her neck felt heavy, its weight tried to drag her head forward. Another fork of lightning seared the sky, and her reflection flashed across her fallen friend’s armor. “ _Why do you torment me so?_ ” her anguished whisper was swallowed in the thunderclap.

     Light danced across the sky, and a shadow cast itself over the disheveled woman; that dark figure stood behind her, its gaunt limbs and skeletal face gleaming in the harsh light of nature’s wrath. It opened its mouth and laughed, its voice as empty as the grave. “ **Your ‘god’ has forsaken you, child.** ” The gristly lips seemed to smile.

     “ _N-no…_ ” Shadowhyn whispered as she stared at the ground.

     “ **Accept the truth of your situation, young one,** ” the Ancient One’s voice cut deep into her heart as fear clenched her mind. _No… it… it couldn’t…_ “ **Why else would your magic fail you? _Einhasad—”_ ** he spat the name, “ **—has _rejected_ you!** ”

     “No!” Shadowhyn’s voice was desperate, “I-I can’t believe that!”

     “ **What other reason could there be for your… _uselessness_?** ”

     The woman gasped before releasing a piteous wail, “Why would She forsake me?” She buried her face in her hands as she began to sob.

     The dark figure spread its arms in an unconcerned manner. “ **It has been my understanding that Einhasad is more interested in vengeance than saving a lost disciple…** ” the Ancient One paused to look at the Bishop, still weeping into her hands, before turning his face to the sky. “ **And so, She casts you off, like so much _trash_.** ” The woman flinched at his words, but she couldn’t keep herself from listening, “ **What good are you now?** ” He turned to face her, raising his arms as if to embrace the fury of nature that raged above their heads. “ **A Godless Bishop!** ” His mocking laughter made Shadowhyn’s ears burn. “ **Doesn’t your abandonment make you…** ” the Ancient One swept close to whisper in her ear, “ **... _angry_?** ” He watched as the woman nodded, slowly.

     “ **But!** ” he exclaimed, “ **that is just as well… I _know_ your potential. I can give you strength and power; the things that you secretly wish for—** ”

     “To… to save _everyone_ …” Shadowhyn whispered, awestruck.

     “ **Yes… even the ability to protect your friends,** ” the dark figure scowled, waving his hand dismissively, “ ** _I_ can give you this power. Yes! Together, we can take our vengeance on those who despise us!** ” He held out his bone-like hand to the kneeling woman, “ **Come with me, young one, and learn the true meaning of power.** ”

     Shadowhyn stared up at the Ancient One, and considered. A small, familiar voice in the back of her mind cried a warning. “But… I don’t… why…” the Bishop’s eyes drifted downward; her voice faltered at the sight of DragonClaw’s body as the words of the Ancient One hammered her resolve.

     “ **Why should you care about Einhasad?** ” The skeletal figure asked laughingly, “ **She’s not even your Creator!** ” Shadowhyn gasped, but the Ancient One continued before she could speak, “ **Do you honestly think that the Goddess of Good could have created such a pitiful race as humanity? _Look about you!_** ” He turned and motioned in the direction of the mainland, “ **You mortals fight, kill, steal, cheat, and for what? What purpose is there in this conflict?** ” He looked down on the battered, rain-soaked woman who knelt in the muddy street, “ **Gran Kain is your true Creator!** ” Lightning split the sky overhead, and Shadowhyn flinched as her sight wavered. _No! I-It can’t be true!_

     **“Yes… the God of Darkness is humanity’s true father,** ” the dark figure stated; the weight of his revelation made the Bishop slump to one side as her legs gave out beneath her.

     She propped herself up on an elbow, and tried to wipe the rain from her face with a shaking hand, “I… I don’t…”

     The Ancient One loomed before her, his hideously aged face plain in the stark light of the storm, his eyes white and dead, “ **Yet even Gran Kain has turned his back on humanity! But I…** ” he extended his hand to the woman, “ **I have need of followers… of _worshippers_ …**”

     Shadowhyn looked wide-eyed at the hand, and swallowed, “What… do you plan to—”

     “ **My plan?!** ” His triumphant voice echoed in her ears, “ **I will _replace_ the Gods that have ignored the inhabitants of this land for so long! _I will_ _be_ _a_ _God!_** ” He stood tall and shook a fist at the sky, “ **For _too long!_ Too long _They_ have done _nothing!_** ” A black aura surrounded the Ancient One’s form as he shook with rage; the muddy ground at his feet was scoured clean, and the rocky dirt started to crack and shift as the dark energies surged in the air around him. Shadowhyn pushed away from the wild magic, panicking as it lashed out around the mad wizard, carving great furrows in the dirt and splintering the wood of the nearby buildings.

     “ **I will take the persecution I have suffered and visit it a _thousand_ - _fold_ upon my enemies!** ” The Ancient One’s voice echoed throughout the Village; as it rang out, a pillar of blackness swallowed his body for an instant before growing to encompass the entire town. The unnatural storm above was pierced by the blackness, and the winds died as the storm’s magic was severed. Fire and lightning splashed across the sky as faint screams filtered from the Temple yard where the Guild mages felt the backlash from their broken Constructs. Daylight touched the Island for an instant before the blackness filled the skies, blotting out the sun as an artificial night fell.

     The dry earth buckled and groaned, and as the dark figure’s laughter rang through Shadowhyn’s ears, the tortured ground gave way. A spire of rock thrust the mad wizard into the air, the fountain beside her crumbling as the stunned woman tried to crawl away from the rippling earth. Another cluster of stone broke the surface and flung the Bishop across DragonClaw’s corpse. Hesitantly, Shadowhyn held out her shaking hands and, gently grasping at the fallen Paladin’s torn breastplate, began trying to pull the body away from the Ancient One’s rocky vantage point. She glanced over her shoulder, looking in fear at the gaunt figure grasping toward the darkened sky. Shadowhyn froze; The Ancient One stared down at her and she shivered as his empty skeletal gaze turned her knees to water. _There’s nothing… nothing sane in those eyes!_

     The skeletal figure reached out toward the cowering woman, “ **What shall your choice be, little one? Learn true power at my side,** ” he waved dismissingly at DragonClaw’s corpse, “ **or join your friend beneath my feet. Know that I _will_ have what is mine.** ”

     Shadowhyn wiped at the dust and dirt on her face, her mind reeling from the possibilities, _If what he says is true, then… No! Even so, I can’t just… no, he must be wrong! He… he must be…_ She paused in mid-thought as she caught a glimpse of the blood staining her hands. Her eyes widened as old memories came flooding to the forefront of her mind, _Oh Ulana, what should I do?_

     A whisper of wind, almost too gentle to notice, caressed the back of her neck. “ _Do what you know to be right, Sister.”_

     Shadowhyn’s breath caught in her throat at the sound of that familiar voice, “Ulana?”

     A white mist rose from the broken earth as the color drained from the village. Shadowhyn looked around in wonder at the frozen scene before her. The Ancient One still stared down at her, unmoving, but his gaze no longer unraveled her courage. She turned to look over her shoulder; she could barely see down to the West gate, where Lord Viper stood motionless in mid-swing, splitting a Doom Knight down the middle, Droxanna wreathed in the flame of an as-yet-uncast Seal.

     The sound of soft footsteps caused her to turn back in the direction of the Black Mage, and the Bishop gasped, “Ulana!”

     The Dark Elf walked around the rocky pedestal that the Ancient One had formed, and knelt in front of Shadowhyn. The flowing white robe she wore glistened as she reached out to gently touch the red-haired woman’s cheek. The Summoner smiled, “ _You know what to do, Shadaera. As you told the others, ‘We must have the will, the hope, to withstand this coming darkness’.”_

     Shadowhyn tried to smile; the joy she felt at seeing her Sister again was overwhelming, yet the memory of her loss was still heartbreakingly strong. “I… I… you’re here?”

     Ulana nodded, “ _You called for me...”_ She looked over her shoulder at the dark figure looming in the air above them, “ _and Shilen allowed me to answer, to help you resist that strong a Darkness.”_

     The Bishop held up a trembling hand, and touched the Dark Elf’s arm. _She’s real!_ Shadowhyn leaned forward and threw her arms around Ulana’s neck, “I’ve missed you so much!” she sobbed.

     “ _I know, Shadaera, I miss you as well,_ ” the Dark Elf said quietly, “ _But I’m afraid there’s not much time._ ” She grasped the Bishops arms and set her back on her knees to look the frail woman in the eyes.

     “What do you mean?” the woman questioned as she wiped the tears from her face.

     _“You mustn’t let him confuse you,”_ Ulana said as she looked over her shoulder at the Ancient One, “ _He is powerful enough to fulfill his ambitions, but he lacks only a little knowledge…”_ she pointed at the amulet hanging around the Bishop’s neck, “ _as well as an object of a certain power that belongs to him.”_

     Shadowhyn froze, her face growing pale as she slowly looked down at the glittering black shape hanging below her throat. “You… you mean… _this_ is his?” Ulana nodded. “Then… is he… is he interfering with my Art?” Ulana smiled gently, and nodded again. “Einhasad… _didn’t_ forsake me?”

     Ulana shook her head, “ _No. Through this amulet, he can corrupt your power… just as it did so many years ago when I wore it.”_

     Shadowhyn stared at the Dark Elf in shock, before managing to speak, “I… I never would have hurt you,” she stared down at her hands, rubbing at the memory of a stain on her palms as tears traced muddy lines down her face, “Not _you_ … not on _purpose_.”

     Ulana smiled, “ _I know little one, I know. He corrupts all that is Holy, yet he needs the Sacred Arts to truly free himself from his mortal body.”_

     Shadowhyn clenched her teeth, anger flaring, “I will _not_ allow that to happen!”

     Ulana grinned, “ _I believe in you, Shadaera.”_

     “First things first,” Shadowhyn said, clawing at the amulet's black chain around her neck, her wet, muddy gloves impeding her efforts, “I'll _destroy_ his amulet, and deny him this power!” She wrapped her fingers around the intricate black disk and pulled it away from her throat. A spike of white-hot pain shot up her spine to the top of her skull, leaving her unable to move. Her hands spasmed, and she felt the amulet fall from her clumsy fingers. It landed on her chest, hard and heavy, almost pulling her to the ground. It seemed to weigh more than it did a moment ago, the chain was surely bruising her neck.

     “ _Stop, Shadaera!_ ” Ulana grabbed at the red-haired woman's wrists, keeping her upright, “ _Only the one who put it around your neck can remove it… or_ him _. But that's too dangerous._ ” The Dark Elf shook her arms gently, looking Shadowhyn in the eye, “ _You cannot let him get his hands on you while you wear his amulet. You_ will _be lost_.”

     The red-haired woman smiled briefly before worry creased her face, “But what can I do?” she questioned as despair tinged her words, “I can’t use any spells, not without Nifii, and he’s far too strong for me to—”

     Ulana pointed at the sheaths around Shadowhyn’s waist, “ _Shinoa gave you her swords. You can still resist him, and she will aid you.”_

     The Bishop looked down at the heavy blades, “I… never was very good with a sword.”

     Ulana laughed, and her glowing white robes twisted and darkened as they formed the Summoner’s familiar gold-and-blue leather armor. “ _Then I shall help you.”_ Ulana turned, and stepped backward into the Bishop’s body and faded from sight. Shadowhyn gasped as the Dark Elf’s voice echoed through her mind, “ _Together, we fight!”_ The white mists faded, and the sights and sounds of the rain-soaked Village returned.

     The Ancient One growled, “ **I shall not ask again, human! What is your choice?** ”

      Shadowhyn stared at her hands, her blue filigreed gloves glistening crimson from her Guild Leader’s fatal wound, but that flood of old memories subsided at Ulana’s gentle presence. The Bishop looked at her faithful friend lying on the ground before her, DragonClaw staring blankly up at the darkened sky. Shadowhyn reached out with a nervous hand and gently closed the Paladin’s eyes, before she slowly shook her head and clenched her fists, “I _deny_ you!” She stood, her knees shaking with the effort, and drew a sleeve across her face to wipe the tears from her eyes. “You killed my family, and my Sister,” the Bishop looked toward the Paladin’s body, “and my friend… and you expect me to aid your mad delusions?”

     “ _Your swords!_ ” Ulana’s voice prodded, and Shadowhyn fumbled at the ties holding the blades in the sheaths.

     “ **You _dare_ to—!**” The Ancient One clenched his fists at her words.

     Shadowhyn interrupted, “Your _pride_ will destroy you, Dahvin, if I fail to do so myself!”

     The swords slipped easily from their scabbards with a ringing of steel upon steel, yet at the sound of his name, the dark figure laughed, “ **So… you’ve talked to my pet in the Library?** ” An inky black shadow began coursing around his right hand, “ **I had hoped you would be smarter than that mongrel,** ” the Ancient One said, his voice as empty as his gaze. A glimmer of white emerged from the dark energy surrounding his raised hand, as a wickedly sharp length of cursed bone formed in the air, “ **But _so be it_.** ” He gestured; Shadowhyn cried out in pain as the impact flung her off her feet, and the blackened sky flashed a brilliant white before flaring red.

     She felt her arms move of their own accord; Ulana had guided the swords she held to cross the blades over her heart, blocking the cursed bone from piercing her chest. The force of the blow made her slide backwards, and she slammed into a portion of the crumbled fountain retaining wall that was still standing, the sheer power behind the attack flipping her head over heels over the stones. She shook her head to clear the stars from her eyes as Ulana spoke gently into her mind, “ _You’ve not been eating well, have you?_ ”

     Shadowhyn scoffed, an incredulous look on her face, “ _That’s_ the first thing you ask?” The Bishop rolled to her knees, pushing herself up to her feet to peer over the wall. The Black Mage still stood atop that rocky promontory, grinning down at her.

     “ _I remember you being faster—and stronger—than this_ ,” the Dark Elf said as she held the swords hilts in a loose grip, keeping her wrists out, the blades angled away from the red-haired woman’s legs.

     Shadowhyn felt strange, like a passenger in her own skin. _She knows what she’s doing, so I’ll leave her in control_. “I guess I’ve… not been taking very good care of myself,” the Bishop admitted, feeling a little embarrassed that Ulana could tell. She added, softly, “It’s been hard to care without you.”

     The Ancient One gestured again, and a quartet of projectiles appeared before him, launching themselves into and through their crumbling cover. Ulana had started to move as soon as they appeared, the red-haired woman’s legs leaping forward to propel her away from the fountain wall. She dashed out into the street, driving her right-hand blade down into the road, leaning down and kicking her legs out to slide on the mud, pivoting around the sword in the cobblestones. She picked up speed as she pulled, righting herself as she ran toward the Black Mage.

     He tilted his head a degree in surprise, expecting the woman to run away. He summoned another pair of cursed bones, and Ulana narrowed her eyes, watching for the attack. One shard leapt forward, striking the road with a _crack_ as the Dark Elf hopped above it, placing her foot down just as it appeared beneath her, using some of the pent-up energy still vibrating in the bone to launch herself skyward. She spun, arms outstretched, right-hand sword forward, off-hand sword angled behind, her blades splitting the air in her pirouette. The Black Mage took a step back, firing the other bone out of reflex.

     “ _Got you!_ ” Ulana said. She had anticipated his wild attack, and positioned one blade to deflect the second cursed bone, while using the impact to accelerate her spin. She blurred, silver blades scything down toward the Ancient One. He raised his arm to block her swing, her right-hand sword striking him near the elbow, crushing his blackwood staff against his unyielding frame, the force of her blow driving his arm down across his chest. She continued to spin, her left-hand blade arcing toward his neck.

      

***

      

     Shinoa heard the struggle, and decided to survey the field before engaging. She knew waiting was dangerous—one or both of her friends could be dying, or worse—but rushing in headlong against this dark magician would only get someone killed. _Me_. She lurked in the opening of the alley, her sharp amber eyes picking out every detail on the darkened battle ground.

     The mad wizard had ripped the ground up, forming a small hill from where he could strike in any direction with impunity. She saw the small red-haired woman slingshot herself around on the street, sprinting toward him. _Wh—where did she learn that?!_ Shadowhyn looked different, somehow, carried herself in a way that seemed both strange and vaguely familiar at the same time. _She’s fast!_ In an instant she was in the air, striking two deadly blows with a physical precision that Shinoa was sure she lacked.

     The Blade Dancer tensed, knew her opening would reveal itself soon. She decided to watch, to see what had come over her new friend. Shadowhyn claimed the high ground, knocking the Black Mage away from his perch. The way she stood, at the ready, one sword high and forward, the other low and angled back… A chill ran down Shinoa’s spine when she recognized that familiar stance.

      

***

      

     Shadowhyn half expected to hear the bones shatter beneath her blades, but it felt more like she had struck stone than a once-living creature. Dahvin grunted as he moved to avoid her deadly blow, the Black Mage lunging away from her sweeping blade. He stepped clear of the rocky spire he had formed in the Village Square, losing his balance, falling before her second blade could do more than score the front of his robes. He vanished in a flickering blackness before he could reach the ground.

     Ulana stood atop his spire, at the ready, her borrowed body loose, ready to flow like the winds in any direction. All her senses were directed outward, Shadowhyn’s as well, the two women knowing they had mere moments to react. A slow, mocking applause rang out from the darkness behind them. The Black Mage stepped forward to the base of the spire, his ancient, withered hands clapping in derision. He laughed, low and deadly. “ **Good. There is some fight in you yet,** ” he uttered, a bizarre satisfaction in his empty voice. “ **It would not do for you to be broken before I could use you.** ”

     Shadowhyn shivered at his callousness, swallowed to get her throat working, “My friends hold me together, Dahvin,” she said firmly, “I trust them with my life.” She pointed a sword at him, staring down at the skeletal creature, “And I will defeat you with their help.” She relaxed, slipping back to give Ulana control. She felt the Dark Elf tense, prepare to move.

     The Black Mage flickered, appearing directly in front of her, his gaunt hand reaching for her throat. Ulana had begun to move when he vanished, dropping low, pulling her swords points-up close to her chest. When he solidified, the Dark Elf leapt into motion, driving her swords deep into his stomach, jolting her wrists when the hilts struck the petrified bones in his ribcage. He exhaled in surprise as she pushed him down, her momentum throwing him onto his back in the road.

     He hung suspended above the muddy cobblestones, impaled by the twin swords that Ulana held, and began to laugh. Shadowhyn had felt a glimmer of hope when they knocked him down, but his mad cackle made her stomach turn to ice. “ **I am no mere magician,** ” he crowed, “ **that I should be concerned about this body!** ” grabbing the Bishop around her upper arms and beginning to squeeze. She cried out in pain, and Ulana could feel her losing her grip on her swords. He leaned his head forward, looking her in the eye as he stretched his dried-paper face in a smile. Shadowhyn thought her arms would break.

     Silver flashed at the Black Mage’s throat, sparks flew as a serrated blade glanced off the cobblestones beneath him. He looked at Shinoa in surprise for a moment before his head fell from his neck, tumbling to the mud-covered road. The Blade Dancer exhaled slowly as she eased her two-handed grip on her sword. She sheathed her blade as she turned to face Shadowhyn, gently prying the Bishop’s arms from his iron grip. Ulana grinned as she put her foot to his chest, pulling the silver swords free from the corpse. She stepped back, sheathing them with a flourish, as she gazed at the young Dark Elf.

     Shinoa gave them a knowing grin, “Creosa a' i' salka en'i'hyanda, _Sisters_ ,” she said as she bowed, giving them the traditional Blade Dancer greeting. She gestured at the decapitated magician, “I was concerned about you, Shadaera, I see I needn’t have worried.”

     Shadowhyn felt tears brimming in her eyes as she embraced the Drow, “I was _so_ afraid when you weren’t with Slifer and Evil, I-I didn’t know _what_ I’d do if—” Shinoa laughed, gently, returning the red-haired woman’s hug, patting her un-bandaged shoulder.

     “ _It is good to see you again, little one_ ,” Ulana said. The pride she felt for the young Dark Elf echoed through Shadowhyn’s mind. Shadowhyn stepped back, and looked up at Shinoa as she started, “U—”

     “I _heard_ her,” Shinoa said, wonder and sadness laced in her voice, “How is this possible?” the Blade Dancer looked down at the Black Mage again, then back to the Bishop, “Is this _his_ doing?”

     “ _It would be his_ un _doing!_ ” Ulana scoffed as Shadowhyn spread her hands, “Shilen allowed her to assist us, but I don’t understand it myself.” The Bishop’s vision rippled as a wave of nauseating vertigo swept through her, the amulet at her throat thrumming softly against her skin.

     “ **Shilen?** ” the Black Mage’s mad cackling surprised the women, and they leapt away from his body as it lurched to its feet, “ **That explains your resistance, human.** ” The gaunt figure lifted its head to its neck, the two parts fusing together with a sizzle of magic. Shinoa’s swords were halfway out of their sheaths when he blurred, appearing behind her to kick her into the smaller woman, sending them both tumbling across the muddy square. “ **Perhaps if I bludgeon your Elfling to death, you will decide to assist me.** ”

     Shadowhyn groaned as she rolled to her hands and knees, her left shoulder screaming with every movement. Ulana helped her stand, the Dark Elf quickly pulling the swords from their sheaths, as she stepped toward the mad wizard. Shinoa kicked off the ground, flipping herself quickly over to where her blades had fallen. She began to stalk the Ancient One, slowly, carefully. He laughed as they approached, angling to keep him between them, “ **You are marked, Bishop,** ” he pointed a skeletal finger at her, his cracked grin glinting beneath his paper-white skin, “ **And once you are enthralled, you will do as I command.** ” He cackled as Shinoa struck, her blades singing, his hands and arms moving to block her blades easily. He lashed out and she flipped away, sliding into a ready crouch. “ **Destroy this body,** ” the Black Mage turned back to the red-haired woman, pointedly ignoring the Blade Dancer, “ **and I will take _yours_.** ”

     Ulana scoffed in her mind as Shadowhyn shivered, fear running down her spine. “Th-then it will be easier for my friends to defeat you if you’re confined to _this_ battered form,” the red-haired woman managed to sound somewhat confident, but she knew Ulana could see how frightened she was. Shinoa narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a snarl.

     Dahvin spread his arms, inviting, “ **Confined? Let us see, then!** ” He lunged toward the Bishop as Ulana dipped her shoulder, rotating around his reaching arm, both blades angled at his lower spine. Shinoa dashed forward, stabbing his upper back, vaulting over his shoulder as she pulled on her sword, twisting his upper body away from the human. The Blade Dancer kicked at his back leg as she sliced at his other knee. Ulana saw him tip forward as the young Dark Elf pulled him off balance, the knobs of his spine visible through his faded robes. She grunted as her swords bounced off the hard bone, missing the narrow channels in the joints.

     He backhanded Shinoa, knocking her away as he stood, continuing his swing to claw at the Bishop as he turned. Ulana ducked below his heavy blow, sliding on her knees as she leaned backward, his hand whistling through the air above Shadowhyn’s face. He grasped at her with his other hand, and Ulana rolled as she kicked out, catching him in the elbow, knocking his hand away. Shinoa hammered his back with both blades, spinning to slash once, twice at his left shoulder, hoping to sever the arm. His torso rotated unnaturally, and he caught her by the neck, slamming her to the ground at his feet. He raised a foot, fracturing the cobblestones as she rolled away from his killing blow.

     Ulana jumped at him, slicing at the same shoulder, her first blade glancing off the shoulder-blade, the twin catching in the joint. She thrust, slicing at the tendons and sinew, his outstretched arm falling limp. He spun again, the limp arm flailing wildly. The Summoner held her swords up, flat against the Bishop’s arms, to block his swing and his other hand slipped in between her guard, grabbing the red-haired woman by the throat. He yanked savagely, lifting her high in the air, the amulet flipping over his wrist, and stars spun in her eyes as her feet left the ground.

     “ _No, Shadaera!”_ Ulana yelled as Shadowhyn dropped her swords, clawing desperately at the Black Mage’s wrist, gasping for air as his iron grip closed her throat. The darkened village wavered as her eyes began to lose focus. Ulana kicked at him, weakly, tried to push against him, to leverage her friend free. Shinoa growled as she lunged at his back, running him through with both blades, his only response to lash out at her again, his elbow blurring past her temple as she dodged his blow. Ulana put a foot on one of the blades protruding from his chest and pushed, allowing Shadowhyn to suck in a breath.

     She gurgled as the Ancient One grinned up at her, small sounds leaking past his vice-grip on her throat. He pulled her close to his face, his putrid stench stinging her nostrils as he gloated, “ **Any last words, foolish child?** ” She pulled on his wrist, vainly, gasping for another breath, her face rapidly turning purple as he squeezed.

     “Nhmm eh— _hhk_ —ahnd,” she wheezed, the words crushed in her throat. He loosened his grip slightly and turned his ear to her mouth. She greedily sucked in air before glaring down at him, gripping his wrist tightly with both hands, “ _Namba en’ Arvandor!_ ” The black sky tore open as the heavens answered, holy fire raining down to hammer the two magicians.

      

*****


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

     Shinoa threw up an arm, shielding her eyes from the blinding column of flame that swallowed the Black Mage. The heat from the flame singed her skin, her hair, the muddy cobblestones nearby fused into a reddish clay. The roar of the holy fire nearly drowned out the awful sounds the mad wizard made. “Shadowhyn!” Shinoa’s calls for her friend went unanswered, her voice no match for the thundering rush of sacred power. _What was she thinking?!_

     The rain of fire ceased, and the Blade Dancer blinked away the great green and purple splotches in her eyes. She slowly lowered her hand as she hesitantly took a step forward. The Bishop still hung by her neck, the Black Mage’s hand grasping her throat, her feet dangling in the air. The Mage had been reduced to a skeleton, blackened by fire and pitted with age, the thicker portions of bone still faintly glowing with heat. Shadowhyn’s arms had burned, dark red flesh hissed as it began to blister, her face and legs had turned a deep pink. Her blackened hands had fallen away from his wrist. Neither mage moved.

     Shinoa rushed to put an arm around the red-haired woman, chopping at the strangling arm with one of the Bishop’s swords that had fallen at her feet. Once she had broken the forearm free, Shinoa gently lowered the human woman to the ground, pulling the hand off her throat, breaking the fingers off in the process. The Bishop took a long, shuddering gasp. She blinked and groaned, grimacing as she began to feel her burns. “Sh… _Shinoa?_ ” she croaked, reaching out for her friend, her eyes open but unseeing. Shinoa grasped her hand and looked at her face, and met her cloudy, dull gray gaze.

     “I… I’m here, Shadaera.” That strange black amulet was looped around the dismembered wrist, the thick, black disk falling back onto Shadowhyn’s chest as Shinoa pulled the forearm away. The disk was cracked, slightly, and warm. The red-haired woman winced, groaning again as she tried to raise her hands to her head. “Are you alright?” Shinoa asked, the woman began to kick her feet, to struggle in the Blade Dancer’s arms, “ _Shadaera!_ ”

     A powerful wave of nausea swept over the Bishop, her head spinning as vertigo clawed at her stomach. She couldn’t see anything, _Why can’t I see?_ but she was certain she would have felt even worse if she could _see_ the village spinning around her. She turned her head away from Shinoa, tried to cover her mouth, but her arms refused to work. A sickening smell, a _memory_ of a smell, assaulted her nose, and she pushed away from the young Dark Elf as she rolled to the ground, retching and coughing. Mad cackling in the back of her mind chilled her blood, “No, no-no- _no!_ ” she cried.

     “ _There is no room for him here,_ ” Ulana’s gentle voice calmed her, “ _do not be afraid._ ” The cracked amulet glowed a fitful red and purple, a dark swirl of energy surging over the Bishop. Shinoa tried to reach her, but the torrent of dark magic threatened to burn her hands.

     Shadowhyn groaned as his magic tried to steal her body; she felt the cold ground in ancient catacombs, she saw the old, dead places, cities now ancient, she smelled the incense and the decay of years, the fetid rot of his body. She felt him clawing in her skull, struggling to find purchase there. She resisted his attempts to take her mind; Ulana held her hands and they prayed, they meditated, her love helped push him away. She caught a glimpse of his ambitions, his strident charge for Godhood, she saw the black deeds and the blacker magic he had cast on the path to immortality. He began to slip away, to turn, and she saw a glimpse of Lysander laying in the Temple yard. She lay on the ground gasping as the sickening cloud of _him_ left her. Shadowhyn felt hands under her arms, someone lifting her to her feet.

     “Ulana, can you see?” Shadowhyn asked quietly.

     The Summoner shook her head, “ _No, Shadaera, I use your eyes._ ”

     “What if—” The Bishop began before Ulana interrupted, “ _If I leave your body, you_ will _collapse. I’m trying to suppress the pain from your injuries._ ”

     Shinoa’s voice in her ears, strong arms supporting her, “What was _that?_ It headed for the Temple!”

     Shadowhyn tipped her head toward the Blade Dancer, “He tried to take my body, he—I saw Lysander in the Temple yard!” She leaned her head against Shinoa’s shoulder, “We need to stop him before he hurts anyone else!”

     “Lysander?” _Oh no_ , Shinoa held the Bishop tightly around the waist, her other hand across her chest on her shoulder, “Can you walk?”

     The red-haired woman muttered something under her breath, waited for a moment before sagging, her shoulders slumped in disbelief. Shadowhyn nodded slowly, “Yes, just… lead the way?” unshed tears stung her ruined eyes as despair gripped her heart, “I… I need Nifii, I can’t…”

     Shinoa nodded before catching herself, “I’ll get you to her, let me grab my swords—”

     “—No! I mean, go ahead, but you’ll need to use this dagger,” Shadowhyn motioned toward the Blacksmith’s gift in its sheath at the small of her back, her hands spasming uselessly. The burns on her arms screamed. “Nifii will help me destroy the amulet, _then_ you’ll stop Dahvin,” she turned her empty eyes toward the Dark Elf, “You _have_ to kill him, this time.”

      

***

      

     Dadrabian glanced over his shoulder, watched for a moment as the Elder tended to the two mages leaning back against the cool stone of the Temple. The storm had been dispelled when the sky turned black, while Slifer and Rhianwen suffered the magical backlash as their Constructs were broken. He had helped Nifii carry them close to the Temple, where they could be out of the mud, at least, until they regained consciousness. He looked to his right, Mauldis and Thainn were still being tended to by a cadre of priests. Trader Jackson’s son had been moved nearby, the two girls still by his side. The priests were truly puzzled by his condition. Dadrabian frowned, _I hate to even think it, but they’re not very good at healing_. Yes, the three were stabilized, and not in pain, but it would be hours yet before even one was fully healed. _No wonder Shadaera was so welcome here._ He glanced at Nifii again before turning his attention back to the Western approach. _She could do it_ much _faster, but I don’t trust them with the Mages_.

     He looked up at the black sky. No clouds were visible, no stars either. There was a strange glow that gave him some visibility, maybe thirty paces distance, but beyond that was more blackness. He had _no_ idea what this was. He waved up at the Temple roof, catching the Hawkeye’s attention. “See anything?” the old Knight asked through the link. He watched Sado shake his head. The Undead seemed to have given up on them. _Shadaera_ did _say they were after her… Goddess above, I hope she’s alright._

     The Guild link had been suspiciously silent for some time, now. Nothing from DragonClaw or Shadowhyn. _Or Shinoa now, too, I almost for—_ The sky split as a searing bar of light struck the Village Square, the air howling as it burned. The ground beneath their feet rumbled.

     Nifii spun, her eyes growing wide at the holy fire, “Shadowhyn!” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. _What does this mean?_ she wondered.

     Pendragon and Dadrabian turned to watch what little they could see beyond the row of buildings before them, the Inn Keeper turning back to look up at the archers on the roof, “What do you see!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

     Sado and Daria shaded their eyes from the pillar of white flame, grimacing as they tried to make out any details. “Nothing, too bright!” Daria called back.

     Nifii picked up her Lance as she stood, running over to stand by Dadrabian, pointing at the flame, “Shadaera’s casting that,” She tried to grin, but fear still held her heart, “If she can use her Sacred Arts, we might—” The column of fire dissipated, the deep black returning. After a few moments the preternatural darkness began to fade, the early evening sunlight brightening the sky. She looked at Dadrabian, then to Pendragon, “What should we do?”

     The two men looked at each other, Pendragon motioning toward the Inn Keeper. Dadrabian nodded, “DragonClaw?” he asked into the link, “DeeCee, do you need us to come to you?” He grinned up at the cloudless sky, nodded to himself as he waited for a response. He rubbed a gauntleted hand on the back of his neck as Nifii’s small smile began to fade. He frowned, glanced at Pendragon, turning to face the Village Square. “DragonClaw?”

     A bubbling, roiling cloud of black smoke streaked through the air to swallow the Trader’s son, Lysander choking and coughing as the aura forced its way into his body. He stood abruptly, knocking his sister and the Blacksmith’s daughter away, and gestured toward the group of priests. Screams and a horrifying staccato of _thuds_ echoed through the Temple yard as cruel lengths of cursed bone speared the healers, their lifeblood spraying across the grass around him. “ **What a _fool_ she is,** ” Lysander ground his teeth, shaking his head. Lydia and Joan shrieked, scrambling away from their friend.

     Dadrabian stepped between Nifii and the Trader’s son, leveling his shield as he drew his sword. “ _You need to find Shadaera,_ ” he whispered over his shoulder, sparing a glance up at the Temple roof. He could see Sado pushing Daria back, both archers moving away from Lysander’s line of sight. Nifii took a step back as the Knight moved forward. He focused on the young man, “What have you done to Lysander?”

     The Trader’s son bowed, laughing, “ **He is my familiar, my _thrall_ , and I can use him as I see fit.**” He stretched his arms, examining his hands before running them through the remnants of his hair, “ **I’ve not taken a body this young in a while,** ” he inhaled deeply, “ **ahh, youth is wasted on the young.** ”

     The High-Priest came out of the Temple, concerned by the sounds that had filtered indoors. “What is the meaning of this?” he sputtered, “What have you done?!” He slowed as he saw the dead priests, “What is—”

     Lysander wheeled about, turning on the old man, “ **Biotin, what did I tell you to do?** ”

     At the sound of the Black Mage’s voice, the High-Priest fell to his knees, cowering. The old man began to stutter as he groveled before the Trader’s son, “Oh, Master! I… I did not realize, I—” Lysander drew close to the man’s face, and he shuddered. The Guild members stared, horrified by the implication. The High-Priest of the Temple, a party to this— Dadrabian glanced over his shoulder; Nifii was gone, swift footsteps disappearing down the nearby alley.

     “ **What task did I give you?** ” Lysander walked around the old man, slow footsteps keeping him in the old man's periphery. Sweat trickled down Biotin’s throat as he swallowed.

     “To k-keep her unaware,” the High-Priest offered. “W-we kept her off balance! Long stretches of boredom with a mountain of Temple work if she returned to h—”

     “ **AND. WHAT. OTHER. TASK?** ” the Black Mage drew close to the quivering man, leaning over his shoulder to shout in his ear. Dadrabian glanced at Pendragon, looked over toward the priests. Mauldis caught his eye, the Tyrant shifted his hand as if to sit up, and the Knight shook his head. _Don’t!_

     “ _To find y-your soulstone?_ ” the old man whispered.

     “ **Yesss,** ” the young man hissed, “ **my _soulstone_. How _did_ they manage to steal it ten years ago?** ” Lysander came ‘round the old man, grabbed the front of his robes as he stared into the High-Priest’s eyes, “ **Why was it not hidden as I’d commanded? Perhaps I was _betrayed_?** ”

     The old man shook his head, his face white as snow, his body shaking in fear. The Trader’s son pushed him down, as Lysander’s borrowed voice grew dangerous, “ **Who do you think wears it now?** ” He stood and laughed, a dead, mirthless sound, “ **At least I can suppress her Arts while she is trapped in it. But you…** ” his voice trailed off as he reached for the shivering old man, “ **You have proven yourself useless.** ” As Lysander’s hand closed around his neck, the old man’s body twisted, bones cracking and breaking, the High-Priest breathing twice more before blood trickled from his nose and mouth.

     The Trader’s son released the corpse as he turned to face Dadrabian. “ **She continues to resist,** ” Lysander sneered derisively, raising his hands in mock surrender, “ **so I’m afraid I must destroy everything she loves so she can spend the next five hundred years in mourning.** ” He glanced over his shoulder at the girls, huddled close together by the Temple wall, “ **I’ll save you two for last, that should be _exceptionally_ effective.** ”

     “You’ll do no such thing, Dahvin!” Shadowhyn’s voice, weak and raspy, managed to catch his attention. She stumbled from the alley to the open section of the yard, held up by Nifii’s arm around her waist. Strangely, she looked off to the side, toward the dead priests. Dadrabian felt a chill run down his spine when he saw her more clearly: her arms were dark, cracked and bleeding, badly burned, her hands a mass of blisters and char. Her face was burned as well, not as bad, but— _Her eyes!_ She whispered something to Nifii, and the Elder led her forward a few more steps. Shadowhyn tried to grasp the amulet at her neck, groaning and grinding her teeth as she fumbled it in her hand. She gasped and sagged as she pulled it away from her skin, Nifii pulling her tight to hold her upright.

     Lysander’s laugh was a terrible, empty sound, “ **You? _Look_ at you! What can _you_ do to stop me?** ” He threw his borrowed arms wide, gesturing all about, “ **No one here can stop me!** ”

     Shadowhyn tipped her head toward the Elder, whispering, “ _Are we close to anyone?_ ”

     Nifii glanced around, “No, no one within five paces. Why?”

     Shadowhyn paused, asked, “Might I borrow some of your strength, one more time?”

     “As much as you need,” the Elder said, opening her Mana to the red-haired woman.

     “ _Are you sure about this?_ ” Ulana asked, “ _Shinoa should be ready by now, she could—_ ”

     “It’s the only way, Sister,” Shadowhyn said softly, drawing deeply on Nifii’s power. She felt dizzy, from the pain as well as the mental weight of the Mana she held. She turned her face toward the Elder, laying her head on her shoulder, “I love you, Nifii, and I’m so proud of you.”

     “What?” Nifii asked, confused.

     “ _Namba en’ Arvandor!_ ” Shadowhyn cried, wrenching the amulet above her head with a sob. Ulana used her other hand to shove Nifii away, hard, the Elder falling to the mud, sliding away from the Bishop.

     “Shadaera, _what_ was—” Nifii began to say, furious, when the sky broke open, the white-hot spear of holy fire lancing down to strike the amulet in the Bishop's hand before the column of flame swallowed the red-haired woman with a shriek. Lysander buckled, screaming, the Black Mage’s voice the roar of a dying animal. He seized, twitching and writhing as the holy flame burned his soulstone.

     Mauldis rolled to his hands and knees, clawing his way across the yard to crouch in front of Slifer and Rhianwen. He motioned to Lydia and Joan, the two girls scrambling to hide behind his comforting bulk. Pendragon stepped closer to Thainn, keeping his Glaive at the ready to protect the crippled Dwarf. Dadrabian and Nifii watched the flames in horror, the Elder standing shakily as she held a hand in front of her eyes.

     The pillar of fire swirled and vanished. Shadowhyn fell to her knees, her head and torso blistered, her skin cracked and bleeding. She lowered her left arm, the smoking stump covered with the ashes of the amulet and the hand that had held it. She began to tip, to fall to the ground. Nifii slid across the steaming clay to catch her gently, setting her down on the scorched earth as the Elder chanted a spell, a glowing Construct flaring into existence around her. “ _You did it, Sister,_ ” Ulana said, but Shadowhyn couldn’t respond.

     Dadrabian turned back to the Trader’s son, stepping between him and Nifii, the young man stumbling to his feet as the Black Mage inside him growled. “ **Destroyed—** **She’s destroyed _everything!_** ” In a rage, Lysander summoned a ring of cursed bones, prepared to fling them all at the Bishop and the Elder. Sado loosed a pair of arrows, striking Lysander in each arm as Daria’s quarrel caught him in the collarbone. Pendragon leapt forward, spinning as he swung his Glaive through the floating bones, shattering them, knocking them from the air. Dadrabian stood his ground, protecting the healers with his body. He clenched his teeth, waited for those last three projectiles to break him apart.

     Rapid footsteps sounded as Shinoa dashed toward the Trader’s son from the Southern approach, leaping, catching his torso in her legs as she swung her weight around, hooking her arm around his throat, spinning him off his feet, flinging him head over heels, sending them both rolling across the Temple yard. She dodged the cursed bone flung her way, diving and rolling to avoid the others. She leapt high, landing on her hands to spring up and over him, dropping her knees onto his chest. He wheezed at the impact as she pinned him down, stomping a heavy boot onto his wrist. Shinoa raised the Soul Separator to strike, driving it up through his jaw, into his skull. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” she whispered. A bright light flickered in his eyes as the young man spasmed and died.

     That roiling black aura leapt from his body, slowly coalescing into the form of a Dark Elf dressed in ancient robes. He looked around, surprised, down at his spirit form before beginning to laugh. “ **I succeeded!** ” he shouted, raising his fists to the sky. He looked down at Shinoa, crouched over Lysander’s body, and pointed, “ **You fools failed! All your pain and suffering, and I _still_ —**” A great pressure swelled, a thunderclap inside their heads, interrupting the ranting spirit as the mortals around him groaned, covering their ears.

     A white haze saturated the air in the Temple yard as Shilen’s form took shape: the Goddess filled the sky, the Black Mage’s spirit an insect before Her. The Temple yard bent under the weight of Her presence, the muddy ground leaning away from Her touch. The humans still standing fell to their knees, Pendragon and Dadrabian shuddering as they dropped their weapons in the mud, Sado throwing his arm across his face as Daria gave a strangled cry. Mauldis was already kneeling because of his shattered leg, but now he knuckled down into the muck, tearing deep furrows in the earth with his Fists.

     Dahvin raised an arm to point at Her, began to vent more of his rage. She grabbed his shade with two of Her hands and brought him close to Her face, examining him. As much as he aspired to Godhood, the difference between the two was apparent to all in the Temple yard. He cried out in fear of Her terrible gaze before She wrenched him apart. Shinoa bowed her head to her Goddess, breathing a sigh of relief. “Th-Thank you, All-Mother,” the Blade Dancer said, looking down at the dead young man beneath her feet as a memory of his smile brought a tear to her eye.

     Shilen began to fade when Nifii called out. “All-Mother, please!” the Elder cried, raising her arms toward the great avatar. Shilen turned to loom over Her healer, the Dark Elf kneeling before the Bishop’s still form. Ulana sat beside Shadowhyn’s head, tears in her eyes as she ran a hand softly across the human’s crumbling cheek. “Please, You… You brought her back before,” Nifii buried her face in her hands, “I _beg_ of you, once more?”

     “ _I would ask the same, All-Mother,_ ” Ulana said, her eyes never leaving the Bishop’s face.

     Shinoa approached, slowly, halting at Shadowhyn’s side. She slumped to her knees, staring down at her friend. The Blade Dancer looked up at Ulana, “You… You knew?” she asked, her throat thick with emotion.

     Ulana sighed and nodded, “ _It was her plan… She… It was the only way._ ”

     Shinoa swore softly under her breath, scrubbing the palms of her hands against her eyes. She looked up to the sky, blinking as more tears began to fall. “All-Mother,” the Blade Dancer said, “Take what You will from me, only—” her voice caught, “only bring her back to us… Please.”

     Shilen reached down to place a gentle hand on each of Her Daughters’ shoulders, comforting them. Her voice thundered again, the mortals groaning under the weight of Her words. The Goddess held out another hand, holding it over the Bishop’s body. Her charred skin began to lighten, became soft, knitting back together. Her left arm began to shimmer, the scarred stump dissolving as the bones grew into place, ropes of muscle and flesh flowing to form her missing hand. Her cracked and cloudy eyes became soft and clear, changing from a dull gray to her usual bright green, and her flame-red hair grew back, racing in waves out of her freshly pale pink scalp.

     For a long moment, the Goddess held Her hand over the human’s body before the hand faded from sight. Shadowhyn took a shuddering breath, her eyes fluttering open. She stared up, saw Shinoa, Nifii, and Ulana around her, and Shilen fading away above them. She smiled, her eyes dancing. She glanced down at her hands, frowned slightly at her left arm, and grinned as a small Construct flared between her fingertips.

     She looked up at her Sisters and asked, “We did it?” When they nodded at her, smiling, she laid her head back on the cracked clay, tears of joy welling in her eyes. For the first time in a long, long while, she felt whole.


	25. VI. Reminiscence

 

 

 **Reminiscence** _n._ : That which is remembered, or recalled to mind; a statement or narration of remembered experience.

 

 

     Her room was dark when she opened the door. She sighed wistfully, remembering how she would set her staff aglow at night. _I don’t know if I have any candles up here_. She shrugged, snapping her fingers as she briefly concentrated on a novice spell. A glowing ball of light floated above her head, a steady yellow warmth filling her small bedroom. She walked over to her bookcase and knelt, tracing a fingertip over the leather spines. A pair of luminous hands slipped over her eyes, “ _Find what you’re looking for?_ ” Ulana asked, the grin apparent in her voice.

     Shadowhyn laughed lightly, “You _know_ which one I’m looking for!” she quoted, playing along. She tapped the book once she found it, pulling the thick tome free of its dusty brethren. She turned it over, blew across the cover, wiping at it with her remaining glove. That only served to smear mud across the book, and she jumped, distraught, “Aagh, no!” Ulana laughed as the red-haired woman glanced around quickly, placing the book on her desk as she looked for a clean cloth. Settling for a threadbare sock from atop her dresser, she carefully wiped the leather cover clean. She looked down at her muddy, burnt clothes, sighing, “I should change.”

     “ _You should get rid of those robes,_ ” Ulana suggested as she took a seat on the bed, “ _there’ll be no saving them._ ” The Dark Elf felt the human’s wave of nostalgia as if it were her own. After a moment, it turned into a sense of bittersweet acceptance.

     “You’re right,” Shadowhyn nodded as she pulled off her mud-caked glove, dropping it in the bin she pulled from under her desk, “and… I don’t need them anymore.” She smiled warmly at the Dark Elf before crouching to untie her boots. Ulana laid back on the bed as the stockings and jacket were tossed in the bin. The Dark Elf glanced at the human’s back when she pulled off the white undershirt, her eyes traced the jagged, puckered scar that angled up to the human’s shoulder. Humming as she scrubbed the mud off her arms and legs with that same threadbare sock, the Bishop ignored the flicker of guilt she felt from the Summoner.

     Once the blue-and-white skirt went into the bin, Shadowhyn reached for her plain white cotton gown, pulling it on over her head. She threw on her clean gray cloak and slipped into a pair of sandals, picked up her spellbook and satchel, and headed for the door.

     “ _Sandals?_ ” Ulana needled, “ _This time of year? This time of_ night? _You_ know _these summer nights are cold._ ” The Bishop scoffed as she led them toward the stairs. They walked down into the Temple, some Villagers still praying in the nave with the remaining priests. Blacksmith Allman stood near the main entrance, keeping an eye on his daughter out in the yard. She and Lydia sat with Daria, their posture somber.

     Shadowhyn stopped as she drew next to the Dwarf, bowing to him in greeting, “Blacksmith Allman, thank you for your kind gift. It was… _instrumental_ tonight.” He nodded kindly, muttering something in response. She paused to run her fingers through her hair, tucking it back behind her right ear, “By the way, where _did_ you come across a Soul Separator?”

     He glanced up at her, surprised at her question. “Tetrearch Thiefiell sen’ it ta me years ago, asked me ta give it t’ya sometime.” He shrugged, “Thought it odd, but I been paid fer less.” She nodded slowly, thanking him again as she walked out the Temple doors. She glanced at Ulana, both women sharing a thought. _Thiefiell? Interesting…_

     Ulana was right, of course. She’d not admit as much aloud, but she could to herself. Her feet were _freezing_. It was barely fourth-watch, some stars were out, yes, but there was plenty of night ahead. The Temple yard was bright, with the big bonfire roaring in the avenue towards the South Gate, and the many pole-torches set up in the yard. Mauldis and Thainn sat by the bonfire, talking boisterously with Droxanna and Lord Viper. The first two had recovered nicely from their injuries, and the others had had only minor cuts and bruises, even with their long time spent outside the Village walls in the thick of things.

     She walked to the podium set up in the yard, laying her spellbook down, flipping through several pages of diagrams and patterns before finding what she sought. She placed a small iron bar across the bottom of the book as she looked about for something to mark the dirt, throwing up her hands when she remembered she didn’t have—

     “Your staff!” Shinoa gasped as she ran into the yard from the direction of the West Gate, breathing hard, leaning forward to put her hands on her knees before flopping down on the grass. The Blade Dancer exhaled dramatically, trailing off in a wet gurgle. Ulana laughed as she sat down next to her sister, pretending to resuscitate the armored Drow.

     “What?” Shadowhyn said as she looked around, then down at the young Dark Elf.

     “I found—your staff,” the Blade Dancer gasped as she held it up to the Bishop. The rune-carved wood had taken quite a beating down in the Library; the blackened, blistered top looked splintered in places, and new dents and scorch marks marred the long surface. Shadowhyn lifted it gently as she knelt beside the Drow, giving the young Dark Elf a quizzical look. “What?” Shinoa asked.

     “Why?” Shadowhyn said, laying the staff across her knees and placing a hand on Shinoa’s shoulder, “Did you run the whole way? Why would you go _back_ for this?”

     The Dark Elf waved a hand in dismissal, made a small _pfff_ noise before coughing into her fist, “I forgot it last night, and I knew you needed it.” Shinoa laced her fingers together as she put her hands behind her head, glancing at the red-haired woman from the corner of her eye, “Besides, I wanted to see if the Undead were still out there, ‘lana told me to go get it, and…” her eyes glinted, “I wanted to surprise you.”

     “ _Good job, Shin,_ ” Ulana said, “ _how did it look out there?_ ”

     “Quiet as can be,” Shinoa shook her head in disbelief, “The only traces of them are the footsteps they left, and the property damage we caused.” The three women laughed at that. Ulana laid back next to Shinoa, her eyes glittering with the evening stars.

     “Thank you,” Shadowhyn said quietly, rubbing her thumbs across the cracked and pitted length of wood, “I _had_ been missing this.” She patted Shinoa’s shoulder, smiling as she stood. She grinned as she held the staff with both hands, beginning to draw a Pattern in the dirt behind the podium. Once she finished, she pulled the podium close to the edge of the Pattern, smiling again as she watched the Elvirane sisters talk, Shinoa gesturing wildly as Ulana laughed.

     After the podium was in place, she began tracing more. Nine circle-bound Patterns were gouged into the muddy, grassy earth, arranged in a half-circle around the central, tenth Pattern. These new sigils were different; the runes prepared them to _receive_ power, rather than _create_ it. _One sigil for each of the fallen, minus two_ , Shadowhyn thought to herself, nodding at her work. She waved at Mauldis, catching the Tyrant’s attention. He stood as she padded over, brushing the dust and dirt from his clothing, “How can I help, little one?”

     She grinned as she motioned back at the Patterns, “I’ve drawn the sigils, would you help me by bringing them out here?”

     He looked over her head at the markings in the yard, then back down at her, “Do they need to be in any particular place?” She shrugged and shook her head, and he nodded, “We’ll take care of it.” He held out a large green hand toward Viper, pulling the Destroyer to his feet. Both Orcs headed toward the Temple.

     She turned at the sound of footsteps to see Shinoa approach, looking uncertain. The Dark Elf looked over at Daria and the girls before looking down at the ground, guilt plainly written in her eyes. “Come with me,” Shadowhyn said gently, taking the Drow by the hand. She led the Blade Dancer over to where the Proprietress sat with the girls, close to one of the pole-torches, the flickering flame overhead lending the three a small bit of warmth. The Bishop let go of Shinoa’s hand, patting her arm and tilting her head, wanting her to stay put.

     Shadowhyn crouched, slipping the loose fabric of her dress behind her knees to keep it out of the drying mud. She nodded to Daria, the blonde giving her a nod in return. The woman leaned back against the pole-torch, Joan laying her head on one shoulder and Lydia at the other, the girls curled up under the woman’s arms. Shadowhyn smiled at the two girls, before holding out her hands toward them. They stared at her hands, then looked up at her face. They glanced at each other for a moment as they sat up, taking hold of the red-haired woman.

     “I am sorry,” Shadowhyn said, her smile fading slowly, “I did not want anyone to get hurt. I am sorry you were there, that you saw those terrible things, that I let you get that close…” She rubbed their knuckles with her thumbs as she thought, “I did not protect you well enough.” She paused, looked down at the ground, shaking her head as she took a deep breath, “I am sorry about Lysander,” she looked at Lydia, “I will make things right.”

     Lydia scoffed, snatching her hand away from the Bishop, “What are you talking about? He’s _dead_ ,” the girl snapped, pointing up at the Dark Elf, “and _she_ killed him! Why is she here?!” She leaned back against Daria, crossing her arms over her chest.

     Shinoa hung her head, rubbed a hand across her face. Shadowhyn tugged at her arm, and the Drow looked down, “ _Come here_ ,” the Bishop whispered.

     The Blade Dancer turned toward the girls, kneeling before them, pushing her hands through her hair to run it back over her ears. Shinoa wore it down for a change, and the breeze blew it right back into her face. “I have killed in battle, warriors who chose their paths. I did not want to kill him,” the Drow said quietly, looking down at her hands, “He was an innocent. Truly, I am sorry.” Lydia rolled her eyes and turned away from the Dark Elf. Shinoa started to rise, to run away, but Shadowhyn grabbed her shoulder, keeping the Blade Dancer next to her.

     “Lydia,” Shadowhyn said, gently, “It is _my_ fault. He died because of _me_.” The girl drew in a sharp breath, her eyes narrowing as she glared over her shoulder at the Bishop. “Events _I_ set in motion ended with his death. It was _my_ battle plan. _I_ told Shinoa to do it. I would have done it myself, but I was… unable.”

     She glanced down at her left hand, still holding Joan’s smaller hand, _It still feels funny_ , she thought, wiggling their wrists slightly, playfully. “Your brother was taken by a _powerful_ mage. The frightening things he said—and did—were _not_ _him_.” Lydia frowned at that, but nodded. Shadowhyn hoped she understood the difference, “That mage was controlling your brother, and if we’re lucky, Lysander will be none the worse after I resurrect him.”

     “What!” Lydia exclaimed, leaning over Daria’s leg to look the Bishop in the face, “You’re going to do that? I thought you couldn’t!” Shadowhyn laughed kindly, as she held her hand to the girl’s cheek, nodding.

     Shinoa nodded, “Yes, she can.” Lydia glared back at the Dark Elf, but saw how she wilted and looked away. The girl wiped a tear from her eye as she stepped over to the Blade Dancer, hugging her tight. Shinoa stiffened for several heartbeats, but then wrapped her arms around the girl, “ _I am so sorry_ ,” she whispered again. Lydia nodded, whispering some comforting words in return.

     A shimmering hand touched the Bishop’s shoulder, and Shadowhyn stood to face Ulana. “ _They’re almost ready,_ ” the Summoner said, nodding toward the yard, “ _The Orcs have the priests and our fallen in their circles._ ” The two women began walking back to the podium, Shadowhyn waving at Joan before turning away. “ _You’re doing Biotin and Lysander separately?_ ” Ulana asked, guessing at the red-haired woman’s plans.

     Shadowhyn chuckled, “You know me so well, Sister.” She sighed, “I’m _hoping_ they’ll be fine? I mean, Dahvin’s gone? Sooo…” she raised her hands as she made an uncertain face.

     “ _Just in case,_ ” Ulana replied, nodding.

     “Just in case,” Shadowhyn repeated. She saw her Guild mates standing about, some by the bonfire, some by the Temple wall, outside the ring of Patterns. Nifii stood by the podium, leaning against her pole-arm as she examined the diagrams in the spellbook the Bishop had weighted open. “It’s alright,” Shadowhyn grinned as she drew next to the Elder, “but the plot doesn’t really pick up until it’s almost over.”

     Nifii snorted and rolled her eyes, setting a gentle hand on the red-haired woman’s shoulder. She looked down at her friend, a smile in her eyes. “I love you, Shadaera, and I am _so_ proud of you.” Shadowhyn nodded, reaching up to hug her dear friend.

     “ _Thank you, Nifii,_ ” the human whispered, “ _for never giving up on me._ ” She squeezed the Elder once more before stepping back, thumbing tears from her eyes. “I have a few more things to do before I can start the ritual.”

     Nifii nodded, wrapping her hands around the haft of her Lance, “We need to talk later, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Shadowhyn nodded as she reached for her satchel below the podium, looping the strap over her chest. She handed her staff to Ulana as they walked to the first spell-sigil on the right. Phoebus lay on a knee-high bier, white linen draped across his body up to his shoulders, his head toward the podium. Shadowhyn quickly scanned the half-ring of bodies, making sure they all pointed to where she would be. She nodded, opening her bag, pulling out a handful of large gems. _A sapphire on the forehead, two amethysts on the eyes_ , she thought to herself as she placed the stones, _a diamond on the lips, a ruby on the heart._ She walked around the ring, placing gems on every corpse.

     She paused as she reached DragonClaw, and she held her hand to the Paladin’s pale jaw. “ _I’m so sorry, Emma,_ ” she whispered, “ _Thank you for keeping faith in me._ ” She carefully placed the gemstones on her friend before returning to the podium. She ran a finger down the page, glancing at the bodies again, then back to the spellbook. She sighed, walking back over to where the Paladin lay.

     Dadrabian stood near DragonClaw’s feet, looking a bit haggard, but alert. He had changed out of his armor, donning his rough-spun wool and leathers. His sword still hung at his hip, his shield across his back. He nodded to the Bishop as she smiled at him. “How goes it?” he asked. She looked around, taking in the Temple yard.

     “Rather well, I think? I’m being extra careful since there’s _nine_ ,” She said, her smile turning into a frown, “I never liked this part.” She drew a curved silver dagger from her shoulder bag, straightening her arms out over the Paladin. Shadowhyn grabbed the blade with her right hand, clenched her teeth and _pulled_ with her left. She hissed as the keen blade bit deep, her blood welling quickly in her fist. She let a fair amount spill onto the ruby at DragonClaw’s heart, concentrating on the Pattern at her feet as she chanted, _Five priceless gems for the soul’s five pointed star, from my heart to your heart, this blood shared to guide the soul home_. The spell-sigil beneath the Paladin began to glow, a soft, warm golden-yellow, and Shadowhyn moved on. EvilChrist was next, then the five priests, Keos, and finally Phoebus.

     She felt lightheaded by the time she reached the podium, ‘ _By the book’ has its downsides,_ she thought as she stopped to look at her hand. She began to speak, but Nifii reached out, erasing her injury with a touch and a phrase. The two mages smiled at each other before Shadowhyn turned to the spellbook.

     She folded her hands and bowed her head as she prayed. _Einhasad bless us_.

     More villagers approached the Temple yard, others came out of the Temple itself. The Bishop tried to ignore their questioning eyes, their judging glances. She had never performed magic like _this_ on the Island; aside from the events from earlier in the day, she thought this might be the most exciting thing they’d seen in years. Shadowhyn glanced over at Daria and the girls, Joan curious, but Lydia watching with rapt attention. Shinoa still sat by the brown-haired teen, the Drow smiling contentedly. The Blade Dancer nodded to the Bishop as their eyes met.

     Shadowhyn took her staff from Ulana, smiling her thanks as she held it upright, angled slightly forward, pointing into the semi-circle of spell-sigils. She laid her other hand on the book, resting her fingers on four runes inside a Pattern drawn on a busy page. She recited the incantation clearly, easily, knowing it by heart but reading it out because it felt _right_. A bit of theatrics after this long day could be forgiven.

     A swirl of wind rose around her feet a moment before a steady golden-yellow glow shone from the Pattern below her, a matching Construct appearing above her head. The blazing disc spread its bright yellow light, beams reaching out as it turned, sending a tingle through anyone they touched. The nine spell-sigils flared bright, their light blinding as it launched skyward, glowing pillars surrounding the bodies that laid within. Shadowhyn guided her magic slowly, carefully, allowing the bodies to straighten, bones to knit and skin to meld together, all their injuries erased. She watched as Phoebus and Keos jumped and shifted, their twisted limbs returning to normal. The priest’s gaping wounds from the Black Mage’s cursed bones grew back together, as did the hole through Evil’s chest. DragonClaw’s splayed ribcage closed neatly, the flesh flowing back over the bones.

     She waited a heartbeat before evoking the next phrase, requesting the spirits of the fallen be allowed to return. Shadowhyn watched as bright, shining lights bent and whorled, glowing auras that settled back to their mortal bodies. The gemstones blackened and crumbled to ash, tumbling skyward in the rush of light. All nine took a breath and she smiled, releasing her hold on the Constructs. The Temple yard seemed a dark, dreary place for a moment, as the holy light faded from the air. After a moment, the world returned to normal, shouts and greetings from the some of the villagers as they ran to the priests.

     Nifii helped her check them all. It was unnecessary, perhaps, but it made the pair feel better to make sure they all were back to normal. Phoebus still laid on the bier, hands behind his head as he watched the stars pass overhead. Keos had sat down nearby in the grass, meditating. As the red-haired woman knelt next to DragonClaw, the Paladin smiled, “See? I knew you could do it.” Shadowhyn laughed, tears filling her eyes as she wrapped her friend in a hug. DragonClaw held her tight, groaning, “What are we going to do with you?”

     “I don’t know!” the Bishop laughed. She could feel Ulana approach, the Summoner’s emotions flowing through the back of her mind. Trepidation, excitement, sorrow… She savored the sensation for now, she knew it couldn’t last. Shadowhyn turned, motioning behind her, “Someone’s here to see you.” She grinned as DragonClaw looked over her shoulder, freezing, shock and surprise playing across her face.

     “Ulana?” The Paladin jumped to her feet, standing before the shimmering Dark Elf. Ulana reached out to embrace DragonClaw, the two women holding each other tight. Shadowhyn smiled, nodded over her shoulder at Nifii and Evil, before rising to walk quietly to the Temple. She still had more work to do before she could rest. She stopped by the podium to take her spellbook, catching Shinoa’s eye, tipping her head toward the Temple doors.

     Shinoa leaned over to say something to Lydia, the girl bouncing to her feet, pulling Joan up with her. Daria stood, stretching her back and shoulders as she rubbed a hand along Shinoa’s arm, the Blade Dancer and the Proprietress sharing a smile. Shadowhyn turned toward the Temple, striding through the doors without looking back.

     She turned to the right, following the main aisle through the nave, two more biers resting in an alcove to her left. Several torches burned nearby, the open patch of worked-stone floor in the chancel well-lit and warm. She walked quietly to stand beside the man and woman staring down at one table: Lysander lay beneath a white linen sheet, his eyes closed, looking peaceful. Trader Jackson and his wife turned to look at the Bishop as she spoke, “I must speak with you, Aaron,” she nodded the woman, “Rhoana.” They did not respond, instead they turned and walked to a group of chairs and sat, looking to her expectantly.

     She sighed, running a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her right ear. She pulled another chair in front of them and sat down, holding her staff across her knees. Shadowhyn rubbed at her palm as she spoke, “Your son was—”

     The young man’s mother threw her hands up in the air, “How could you—we _trusted_ you!” She pointed at the red-haired woman, sorrow painting her face, her words, “I know the children liked you, why? Why didn’t you save him?! Why did your _flaming_ G—”

     Her husband put a hand on her arm, pulling it back to her lap, “ _Rhoana_ ,” he whispered, putting his arm around her.

     Shadowhyn nodded, “You’re right,” she said gently, “His death _is_ my fault. A powerful mage, far, _far_ stronger than any I’ve seen before, had learned how to move his _mind_ into other bodies.” She paused, gauging their expressions, “It was a way to prolong his life. He was old, _thousands_ of years.” They looked incredulous, but she pressed on, “I know, it-it sounds ridiculous…” She rubbed at the back of her head, wondering how best to word it. “I… He tried to force me to help him become a god, but I managed to destroy his body instead.” She motioned toward Lysander’s body, “He moved his mind _into_ your son. Lysander was possessed, being… _worn_ like a cloak by this mad magician.” Rhoana looked horrified, and Trader Jackson looked grim.

     The Bishop frowned, waving her hands in a vague manner, “To stop this mage from murdering everyone here, _using your son_ , we… had to kill him. Them.” She leaned forward, holding her hands out to the woman, Rhoana taking them in one hand as she held the other at her mouth, crying softly as the Bishop spoke. “I tell you this because I _don’t know_ how Lysander will be after I resurrect him.”

     “You’ll _what?_ ” Rhoana gasped, the boy’s father leaning forward, asking earnestly, “You can do that?!” _Not five minutes ago!_ Shadowhyn thought to herself before realizing they had been in here, they had not seen it happen. Being smug would _not_ help.

     “I will, but you must _hear_ me now,” Shadowhyn paused, looking at them, making sure they were listening, “He may be fine. I _hope_ he’s fine. But he may be damaged by the Black Mage. He might be dangerous to himself or others.” She rubbed her hands on her eyes, “I’ve never seen magic like this before, so I just… I don’t know.” She looked at them again, “If he’s not… _right_ … we may have to deal with him again. Permanently.”

     “Do you need anything from us?” Jackson asked, his wife almost talking over him, “ _Anything_ you can do, we’ll take that chance!”

     Shadowhyn smiled, patting her satchel, “Everything I need, I have here. But… I’ll need you to trust me if I must… put him down. I do _not_ want that,” She looked at them, “but I _will_ make that decision if I need to.” They looked scandalized, angry even, but before they could respond Lydia ran in, throwing her arms around their necks.

     “Did she tell you? She said she can bring him back!” Lydia looked ecstatic, squeezing them tight. Joan and Daria walked down the aisle to stand a few paces away, giving the Jackson family some space. Shinoa moved to the side of the Temple, walking along the wall to stand behind Shadowhyn. The Dark Elf glanced over her shoulder, saw the young man’s body, and turned to face the bier where Lysander lay. Slowly, the Blade Dancer knelt beside the boy and began to pray.

     “Yes, she _said_ she could,” Rhoana replied, frowning, “she _said_ a _lot_ of things, I’m not sure if I belie—”

     Lydia laughed, sitting up, looking her mother in the eyes, “She just did it outside, Mother! She raised those priests, and those Guild members who died! All nine at once!” The woman looked at Shadowhyn skeptically, but she was willing to believe her daughter much easier than this hermit who lived in the Temple attic. Lydia continued, “She put some _gems_ on their _bodies_ , and _cut_ her _hand_ with a silver _knife_ , and put her _blood_ on them, it—”

     “Her _blood?_ ” her mother interrupted, looking a bit green.

     Jackson raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms over his chest, “You didn’t think that would have been something important to tell us?”

     Shadowhyn spread her hands, “I did not want to appear boastful, to color your impression of his situation.” She gave them a little smile, “I _will_ do as much as I can for your son.” The Bishop stood, looking about the Temple. _That open space in the chancel should do fine,_ “I need a bit of time to prepare, then we can begin.”

     She walked to the open floor, drumming her fingers against the leather of her spellbook as she crouched down to touch the stone. _Hmmm… charcoal or chalk?_ Rubbing a fitted seam with her thumb she nodded, opening her satchel to pull out a stick of charcoal. She laid the book down next to her, found the page with one of the Patterns she needed. It took her a good quarter hour to draw the spell-sigils. One stretched almost two paces across, the other was much smaller. Both were complex, the first required a bit of Mana to set the Pattern before she could draw the next over it.

     She stood, examining her line work. Brushing the charcoal from her hands, she turned back to face the Jackson family. She jumped in surprise, feeling Ulana’s amusement at her reaction. Rhianwen and Slifer sat in the nave, Ulana and Evilchrist flanking them, Nifii sitting with the Jacksons, talking with them quietly, a kind look on her face. The other mages must have been watching her work, based on their expressions. Shadowhyn thought back on the last fifteen minutes, of all the awkward positions and faces she’d made while drawing her sigils, trying not to smudge her work. She groaned as she shook her head at them, the Spellsinger trying to suppress a large grin.

     Shadowhyn walked to their row, kneeling in the chair before them to wrap the Spellsinger and the Sorcerer in a tight embrace. “You’re awake! How do you feel?” She asked the Elf, Rhianwen smiling, but hints of exhaustion still lurked in her eyes.

     “I feel like I could sleep for days,” the Spellsinger said, laughing as she stifled a yawn. Slifer glared at her and muttered an oath as he caught it from her. “I am feeling much better,” Rhianwen said firmly.

     “That storm was impressive,” the Bishop said, her eyes wide as she remembered the howling winds and the punishing rain, “No wonder you two are tired.”

     Slifer laughed, rubbing the side of his head, “Well, I’ve got this headache that won’t go away, but otherwise I’m fine.” Shadowhyn leaned close to him, a small Construct flaring at the back of her hand as she pressed her palm to his forehead. She looked into the distance for a moment before focusing on his eyes.

     She snorted, “You need to drink some water.” He sat down with a groan as Rhianwen laughed, Shadowhyn giggling lightly, “Evil could have told you that, you’ll feel better soon.”

     The Elder sitting next to him laughed, “I _did!_ ” Shadowhyn moved down a chair so she could give Evil a hug, “It’s so good to see you looking happy again, Shadow,” Evil said as she gave the human a squeeze.

     Shadowhyn smiled, “It’s good to feel happy, without feeling _guilty_ about it,” she replied. “I hate to cut this short, but,” she tilted her head toward the Jacksons and the spell-sigils beyond them, “I’ve kept them waiting too long.” Evil nodded and waved as Shadowhyn walked over to Lysander’s bier. Shinoa still knelt there, her shoulders slumped, staring at the young man’s face.

     Shadowhyn crouched beside her, tucking her hands behind her knees, “I’ll begin soon, will you help me move him over there?” She nodded her head toward the spell-sigils when Shinoa looked at her, and the Dark Elf nodded, sniffing as she stood, taking the end of the table where Lysander’s head lay. “Head in, if you please,” Shadowhyn grunted as she lifted the foot of the bier, the two women walking the body into the torch lit chancel. They set the table down, gently, and the Bishop walked around to place her hand on Shinoa’s shoulder, “Go sit, Sister, and we shall see what the Fates have in store for us.”

     Shinoa nodded, gently bumping foreheads with the smaller woman before turning to walk out of the spell circle. Lydia motioned to the empty chair beside her, the Dark Elf sitting down with a smile. Shadowhyn looked out at the nave, saw DragonClaw and Dadrabian walk in to sit by Daria, Pendragon standing against the Eastern wall beside Rhianwen. She looked at the Jacksons, “I will begin.”

     She flipped through her spellbook, finding the appropriate page, studying it for a moment. She set the book down on the floor, beyond the edge of the large sigil, then turned to face the young man. The Bishop held her staff with both hands, leaning against its familiar solidity as she concentrated. Ulana stood quickly, tipping her chair back as she felt Shadowhyn’s wave of guilt and fear, “ _What are you doing, Shadaera?_ ”

     The red-haired woman smiled at her as a barrier burned in the air, surrounding the Bishop and the body, forming an impenetrable wall between her and those watching. More of her friends stood, barking questions in their confusion. She held up her hand, quieting them gently, “Just in case,” she reminded Ulana. Shadowhyn looked down at the young man, gripped her staff tightly in her left hand as she held her right hand out over his chest, fingers stretched wide. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, gathering her Mana. The runes on her staff began to glow, a dull yellow growing to a bright, pure white.

     The small woman’s eyes snapped open, “ _Cuiva!_ ” she called, the Temple interior echoing with her command. The intricate Pattern beneath the young man’s bier flared white, a column of light exploding up through the body as a swirl of wind rushed in to follow. Her red hair swirled and the pages of her spellbook fluttered as the white linen sheet covering the body was flung high in the air.

     Lysander gasped, arching his back as he inhaled, breathing back out with a wail and a sob. He rolled onto his side and began to weep, cradling his head in his arms. His mother stood, hand at her mouth, his father standing to hold her arms to keep her from touching the barrier. Shadowhyn looked down at him, a wary concern visible on her face. She walked behind him slowly, watching. She stood still and uttered some other incantation, as a familiar brilliant golden-yellow Construct flared into the air above her head. She watched as the young man continued to lay on the bier, crying, unaffected by her Ward.

     She moved swiftly to his side, the Construct vanishing as quickly as it appeared, as she threw her arms around his shoulders he turned to look at her, his eyes full of fear, “I killed them!” he sobbed, “Those priests, I just—I killed them!”

     “No, that wasn’t you,” Shadowhyn rubbed his back, his shoulders as he clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder, “You were being controlled by that mage.”

     He shuddered, pulling away from her to look around, quickly, fearfully, “Where is he? We’re not safe here!” He tried to stand, but slumped to the floor, his knees giving out in fright.

     “He is gone,” the Bishop said quietly, “my Sisters tell me that their Goddess destroyed him.” She held his shoulders, pulling his chin up to look at her eyes, “He will _not_ return.” He shivered, gripped by his fear, but his eyes were hopeful. He _wanted_ to believe. “Perhaps you would have an easier time believing Shinoa?” Shadowhyn asked quietly. His eyes widened as his cheeks burned, and he glanced around for the first time, recognizing where they were. He turned to the nave, saw his family standing there, the Blade Dancer next to them. The Bishop tilted her head, her barrier fading, “Go, your mother needs a hug,” she said with a smile.

     He ran to them, his parents embracing him tightly, Lydia and Shinoa standing back to give them a moment. Shadowhyn stood, laying her staff on the floor as she waved DragonClaw and Dadrabian over to her. The Paladin approached, smaller than usual when wearing her canvas and leather city clothes. “That was quick,” DragonClaw said, running a hand through her hair as she nodded over her shoulder at the old Knight, “Dadrabian said you put on a whole show earlier.”

     Shadowhyn smiled, blushed a little, “It felt like the right thing to do,” she said, tossing a glare at Ulana as she felt the Summoner’s amusement at her embarrassment. “The boy should speak to Keos or Rhianwen, in case he remembers anything from Dahvin. It might be valuable information.” She trailed off, looking back to the alcove where the High-Priest’s body lay, “I’m going to raise Biotin next, did you— _would_ you be in here with me?” The Knight and the Paladin looked at each other, before nodding at the Bishop. “Thank you, I… I feel… so _betrayed_. I know he was being compelled by that Mage, but I don’t… I don’t even know what to _say_ to him,” Shadowhyn said quietly.

     “Of course, it’s natural to feel… uh, confused,” DragonClaw said, clasping the Bishop’s shoulder and giving her a gentle shake.

     “I’ve known him for _years_ ,” Dadrabian said, his face twisted in disbelief, “I never suspected a thing… It’s almost unbelievable.”

     “Could you two help me carry him in here? Just the body,” Shadowhyn waved down at Lysander’s bier, “We don’t need his table.” She moved to the foot of the High-Priest’s table, gathering the cloth he was laid on around his feet, pulling it up into a bundle that was easy to hold. The other two did the same at his shoulders, and at the Bishop’s nod, the three lifted him from the table. They moved him more easily than expected; the old man didn’t weigh as much as he appeared.

     They laid the High-Priest on the table in the center of the spell-sigils. DragonClaw and Dadrabian took up positions on either side of his legs, Shadowhyn resuming her place at the head of the bier. She stood there for a long moment, holding her staff with both hands, leaning her forehead against the cracked, blackened wood. Her heart raced, and she felt the room start to spin. Ulana slid sideways behind DragonClaw to put an arm around Shadowhyn’s shoulder, turning her into the crook of her neck, the shorter, red-haired woman wrapping her arms around the Dark Elf’s luminous form.

     “I’m scared,” Shadowhyn said into her shoulder, her voice muffled. Her left hand was tingling again, which didn’t help. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, slowly.

     “ _I know_ ,” Ulana replied, running a hand through her messy red mane. The Summoner watched as Lysander turned to his twin, giving her a hug, Lydia whispering in his ear, “ _I’m three hours older than you now!_ ” The Dark Elf grinned as they shared a laugh, saw Shinoa begin talking to the young man, her posture tense and worried. No doubt she was apologizing for stabbing him. Ulana rested her cheek against the red-haired woman’s temple, “ _We are here for you, little one._ ”

     “I know, I just…” the Bishop groaned as she rubbed her forehead against the Summoner’s jaw, “What will I find out _this_ time? I can’t… I can’t take any more surprises.”

     “ _You are stronger than you realize, Shadaera,_ ” Ulana said as she gently pushed Shadowhyn back, looking down to meet the human’s eyes, “ _The sacrifices you made earlier today speak to that._ ”

     “Oh, I don’t—” Shadowhyn began to protest before Ulana interrupted, “ _Finish your work here, so we all can rest._ ”

     The red-haired woman looked up at her friend before nodding. “Thank you, Sister,” she smiled as she turned to face the body on the table, “Sorry for the delay,” she said to the two humans at the foot of the bier. DragonClaw returned her smile as Dadrabian waved in dismissal. “I’ll get started,” Shadowhyn said, holding tight to Ulana’s calm confidence in the back of her mind.

     She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, the barrier springing to life around them. She held out her hand, gathering her Strength. The runes on her staff began to glow, growing brighter, and as they shone a pure white she opened her eyes. “ _Cuiva,_ ” she said, a hint of trepidation in her voice. The Pattern beneath the table flared white as another pillar of light lit the Temple, swallowing the body, a rushing wind shaking the four standing around the bier. The old man twitched and moved, his spell-twisted limbs returning to their normal shape, his damaged body restored by the Sacred spell.

     The High-Priest inhaled, drawing a deep breath as he opened his eyes. He tried to sit up, but Dadrabian stepped forward to press a hand against his chest, a hard look in the Inn Keeper’s eyes. Biotin gasped when he caught sight of the old Knight, “Dadrabian!” he said, his voice hoarse and urgent, grasping desperately at the Inn Keeper’s wrist, “he’s after her! He’s going to use… her… to—what—” He trailed off, glancing down at his hands, raising them to his head, “I can… I can _tell_ you?!” He began to laugh, and then to cry. Dadrabian glanced over at DragonClaw before looking to the Bishop, shrugging his shoulders.

     Shadowhyn looked up at Ulana, the Dark Elf nodding to the red-haired woman, nodding again toward the old man. She tightened her grip on her staff, her knuckles turning white for a moment before she cleared her throat, and stepped around the corner of the table. Biotin’s eyes widened as he saw her stand next to the Knight, his hands shaking as he began to reach for her. He closed his eyes, pulling his hands into fists, then laid them on his chest, “It’s not right that you had to raise this old fool… I am so sorry,” he said quietly, “Dahvin controlled me for years, _decades_ , and I could do nothing to resist.” He looked up at her, tears brimming in his eyes, “He must be gone, I could not even _speak_ of him before now.” Once again, he began to lift his hand toward her, then pulled back.

     The Bishop sighed, reaching out to take his hand in hers, “I know you were being controlled, but I… I still—”

     He shook his head, “I tried to help you, I _tried_ to defy him, but each time he would compel me further, and I would lose more of myself.” He looked at DragonClaw, then at Dadrabian as he continued, “When I was young, and foolish, I studied to be a Bishop. He subjugated me before my Trial, and I became a Prophet instead, to spite him.”

     Dadrabian scoffed, “So you’re _not_ a healer?” and the old man nodded. “I wondered why the Priests were… so _bad_ at it,” the Inn Keeper said softly, looking around to see if any were within earshot.

     Biotin nodded, “Yes, they are purposely under-trained, so that they could pose no threat to Dahvin.” He closed his eyes and exhaled, “I did betray him, as he suspected. I left his soulstone unprotected in the School of the Dark Arts, and he’s had me on an ever-tightening leash since that day.” He blinked, tears falling from his eyes, “I feel like I can _breathe_ again.”

     “ _That amulet in the treasure room,_ ” Ulana asked, “you _left it for us to find?_ ”

     He craned his neck to see who had spoken, starting when he caught sight of the Dark Elf’s spirit. “Y-yes,” he answered shakily, “It was my responsibility to keep it secure, and I left it un-warded. And I sent a missive to the Priests in Giran to investigate the Undead there.” He shuddered, “Anything more… _direct_ than that was absolutely forbidden. I could not even _think_ of such things without blinding pain.”

     “But he was the—he killed my parents!” Shadowhyn exclaimed, throwing her arms wide, “You two—How long did you—he—Did you _plan_ for me to get involved in this?” Her stomach churned at the thought that she had been nothing more than a pawn in this Black Mage’s game. She turned, began to pace beside the bier, the barrier falling as her attention focused elsewhere. _How much of my life has been beyond my control?_ She wondered as Dadrabian stood back, holding his hand out the old man, pulling him up to sit on the low table.

     The High-Priest shook his head, “No... I hoped _someone_ would find his amulet and destroy it,” he worried his hands, rubbing the white linen of his robes as he looked up at her, considering, “but it _is_ strange that it would be you.”

     DragonClaw crossed her arms over her chest, a wry smile on her face, “I think the Gods had more to do with this than we realize.” She looked over as Nifii approached, the Elder placing her hand on the Paladin’s shoulder. “What do you think?” DragonClaw asked.

     Nifii nodded, watching as Shadowhyn paused to shake her left arm, rubbing at it with her other hand, “The Gods do have a sense of irony... and _justice_. Perhaps the All-Mother felt _you_ would succeed where another would fail, due to your history with the Black Mage.” The Elder walked over to the Bishop, glancing at Ulana when she passed, the Summoner giving a small shake of her head. “When Shilen restored you, She didn’t call you _Fallaner_ or ‘healer’ like She did before, She called you _amin hyarya_ _cam_ … which means ‘My left hand’,” Nifii took hold of the red-haired woman’s arms, holding them up in the torchlight, holding her own arms on either side.

     Shadowhyn felt a chill when she looked at her arm, looked _closely_ at it for the first time that evening. Her left hand and her arm down past the elbow was a light gray, faint white veins tracing the bottom of her wrist and forearm. It was the same shape as her other hand, but, “It… looks like _your_ hand, Nifii,” the Bishop stared at the three gray and one pink arm between them, “Why does— _why_ —I—” Dadrabian and DragonClaw drew close to see for themselves.

     Nifii laughed as the red-haired woman stuttered to a halt, “Shilen has a sense of humor as well, Shadaera,” the Elder smiled at the Bishop, “She marked you as Hers, for reasons known only to the All-Mother. Although if you ask me, _I_ believe She is fond of you.” Shadowhyn flexed her fingers, frowning at the tingling sensation she still felt. “Does it hurt?” Nifii asked gently.

     “It… tingles,” Shadowhyn said, giving her hand another shake. She remembered the searing flame, the heat so intense it felt like her arm had been dipped in ice-water. She shuddered at the memory, rubbing at her eyes and blinking as she looked around, thankful for her sight.

     Nifii nodded, “That should fade, in time,” she patted the woman on the shoulder, “Perhaps you need a good night’s rest.”

     Shadowhyn groaned and rubbed at her temples, “I _could_ at that.” She felt Ulana’s concern spread through the back of her mind, and she looked at the Summoner with appreciation, “But what about—I mean, why is Ulana still here?” she asked as she reached out to the ghostly Dark Elf, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together, “Don’t misunderstand, Sister, I treasure every moment I have with you, but I…” she glanced down at the floor, as she drew in a shaky breath, rubbing the toe of her sandal on the stone floor, “I just… I cannot believe it will last.”

     Ulana looked at Nifii, the Elder giving her a small nod, “ _The All-Mother made you whole._ ” The Summoner’s shade gave the Bishop a sad smile, “ _Your mind, your_ spirit _, were damaged that night when I died, and in restoring you, She restored our bond. Surely you’ve felt it?_ ” Shadowhyn nodded, still confused, but she could not deny the fact that she’d felt Ulana’s presence—and just as her mother had described it. “ _As we have a connection, She said I must stay here to watch over Her adopted daughter,_ ” Ulana said with a grin.

     Shadowhyn felt a thrill run through her, followed close behind by an anxious fear. _This is more than I could have asked for, yet…_ She looked down at the floor, afraid to ask the question that plagued her mind. Ulana could sense her frustrated joy, and shook the Bishop’s hand, “ _Tell me what is troubling you, Shadaera._ ”

     She sighed, covering her eyes with her free hand, unable to look the Summoner in the eye as she spoke, “Are you… Do you _want_ to be tied to me? I understand if you don’t, I mean, you didn’t really give me permission to perform the Life-Bond. I—I could research how to break it.” Her stomach dropped as she spoke her fears aloud, _What if she doesn’t, I don’t want her to_ hate _me for—_

     Ulana laughed, the familiar sound soothing the human’s fragile state of mind, “ _Of_ course _I want to stay with you, I could have no better companion! I hope you don’t mind this,_ ” she motioned at her ghostly form, “ _unusual state I find myself in._ ”

     Tears of joy began to fill the red-haired woman’s eyes as she grinned, “I _suppose_ I must endure this trial Shilen has set before me,” she laughed, pulling Ulana into a tight embrace, “ _I could ask for nothing else_ ,” Shadowhyn whispered. She smiled over Ulana’s shoulder at the Elder, feeling overwhelmed, “Did… did She say anything else?” She watched Dadrabian helping Biotin to his feet, DragonClaw walking the two men out into the Temple proper. Ulana sat down on the edge of the bier, staying close to the Bishop.

     “The All-Mother was pleased with your success, with your willingness to sacrifice for Her cause. She felt she chose rightly,” Nifii looked at Ulana for a moment, the two Dark Elves sharing an unspoken thought, “I think it was all a test,” the Elder said quietly, “She was willing to let the Black Mage go as far as he could… She may have just been toying with him.”

     Shadowhyn snorted, running a gray hand through her hair, “We were just pawns then?” She looked to Ulana, the Summoner standing and spreading her hands in uncertainty. Seeing neither Dark Elf had an answer for her, the red-haired woman wrapped both hands around her staff, leaning against its familiar strength. “What do we do now?” Shadowhyn asked.

     Ulana laughed, “ _The night is still young,_ ” the Dark Elf motioned to Nifii, holding out her arm, the Elder hooking their elbows together, “ _Let us see our friends at the Inn, then perhaps we will watch the stars from the roof._ ” Shadowhyn put her arm around Ulana’s waist as the Summoner wrapped an arm around her shoulder, the red-haired woman giggling as the Dark Elf squeezed her tight. The three friends walked out into the quiet, starry night, talking and laughing, ready to make the most of their time together.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Prelude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812906) by [terra_nocuus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terra_nocuus/pseuds/terra_nocuus)




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